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QUARTER-BACK BATES 


BY 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

•t 

Author of “The Crimson Sweater,” “ Left End Edwards,” 
“Left Tackle Thayer,” “Full-Back Foster,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

FRANK J, RIGNEY 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
1920 


Copyright, 1920 

By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc. 


y 





GCT 27 1020 

tSbe ^fam & gobtn Compaiip 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
RAHWAY N E W JERSEY 


©CU601063 


CONTENTS 


CHAFTEB 

I 

The Depaetuke of a Hero 



PAGE 

1 

II 

‘ ^ Washington P. Quiggle ’ ^ 



11 

ni 

Room-Mates 



27 

IV 

BliASHINGTON 



38 

V 

‘‘Rusty^’ .... 



52 

VI 

Dick Makes an Enemy 



69 

VII 

Paging Mb. Blashington . 



78 

VIII 

Halden Repeats 



90 

IX 

Letters and Rhymes 



102 

X 

Whitewashed ! . 



118 

XI 

Warden Advises 



130 

XII 

The Phillipsburg Game . 



142 

XIII 

The Last Quarter . 



154 

XIV 

Rusty Brings a Friend . 



166 

XV 

Captain Peters Entertains 



177 

XVI 

Mr. Bates Protests . 



194 

XVII 

In Conference . 



209 

XVIII 

Publicity .... 



225 

XIX 

On the Screen . 



237 

XX 

Blash Evens the Score . 



247 

XXI 

Two Scraps of Paper 



256 

XXII 

Blash Confesses 



270 

XXIII 

Kenwood Scores . 



277 

XXIV 

Quarter-Back Bates 


. 

287 



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to spoil it Frontispiece 

rACING 

PAeK 

‘^Good evening,” said Rusty amiably . . . 62^ 

“How we love our Faculty!” 188‘ ^ 

The pursuit had closed in now and foremost friend 

and enemy were but a few yards behind . 292 




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QUARTER-BACK BATES 


CHAPTER I 

THE DEPARTURE OF A HERO 

It cannot be truthfully said that Dick Bates 
was overwhelmingly surprised when he reached 
the railroad station that September morning and 
found fully a score of his schoolmates assembled 
there. Wally Nourse had let the cat out of the 
bag the day before. Wally was one of those well- 
meaning but too talkative youths such as we have 
all met. But Dick played the game perfectly this 
morning, descending from the carriage — ^Mr. 
Bates was one of the very few persons left in 
Leonardville who could afford an automobile and 
still drove horses — with an expression of question- 
ing surprise. He realized that too much surprise 
would suggest that he knew the assemblage was 
there to do him honour ; and if, as some said, Dick 
was conceited, at least he was always careful not 
to seem so. 

Mr. Bates handed the lines to Hogan, the coach- 
man, who had ridden in the back seat surrounded 
1 


2 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

by Dick’s luggage, and followed his son to the plat- 
form with a satisfied smile on his seamed, good- 
humoured countenance. It pleased him that this 
younger son of his should be popular and sought 
after. To a certain extent he accepted it as a com- 
pliment to himself. Dick was already surrounded 
by the little throng of high school boys and girls — 
for the gentle sex was well represented, too — and 
his father heard him telling them in that pleasant, 
rather deep voice of his how unsuspected and un- 
deserved it all was. Mr. Bates wasn’t deceived, 
however. Dick had confided to him on the way 
from the house that there might be a few of the 
fellows there to see him off. Instead, he chuckled 
to himself. ‘‘You can’t beat him at the diplomatic 
stuff,” he thought proudly. Then his smile faded. 
“Wonder if he isn’t a little too good at it!” Then 
Doris Ferguson had spied him and was clinging 
to his arm and telling him how mean and horrible 
he was to let Dick go away and leave them, and the 
other girls, seven in all, were chiming in, and 
everyone was talking at once. And that pleased 
Mr. Bates, too, for he liked Doris and, having no 
daughters of his own, wished he had a girl just 
like her. He patted her hand and beamed down 
at her from his six-foot height. 

“Now don’t you take on so, young lady. Just 


THE DEPARTURE OF A HERO 


3 


you remember you Ve still got me. Course, I can’t 
play one of those half -portion banjos like Dick can, 
but I’m just as nice as he is other ways!” 

Sumner White had drawn Dick apart. Sumner 
was this year’s football captain, and the other 
boys, watching and trying to appear not to be, felt 
that words of weight and wisdom were being ex- 
changed over there by the baggage-room door, and 
wouldn ’t have interrupted for worlds. What Sum- 
ner was saying just then may have contained wis- 
dom, but certainly wasn’t very weighty. 

‘Hf you run across any real good plays or 
wrinkles, Dick, I wish you’d put me on, eh? I 
guess they play pretty near college football at 
Parkinson, and you know how it is here. If Mur- 
phy ever had a new idea he’d drop dead! Of 
course I wouldn’t give anything away. You can 
trust me to keep mum, old chap.” 

‘‘Why, yes, I will, Sum, if I can. But I may not 
get near the team, you know. I guess they have a 
raft of corking good players at Parkinson, 
and ” 

“Oh, pickles!” jeered Sumner. “I guess they 
won’t have so many good quarters that you’ll be 
passed up ! Bet you anything you’ll be playing on 
the Parkinson team before you’ve been there a 
week ! Gee, I sort of wish you weren’t going, Dick. 


4 QUABTER-BACK BATES 

It’s leaving us in a beast of a hole. Say, honest, 
do you think Rogers could ever learn?” 

‘‘I think Sam’s the best we — the best you’ve 
got. Sum. All he needs is a whole lot of work. Of 
course you can try Littleton if you like, but you 
know my opinion of him.” 

‘‘Ye-es, I know. But Sam’s so blamed dumb! 
Gee, you have to use a sledge to knock anything 
into — There’s your train, I think. She whistled 
down by the crossing. Well, say, Dick old scout, 
I sure wish you the best of luck and everything. 
You’re going to make us all mighty proud of you, 
or I miss my guess ! We’ll all be rooting for you, 
you know that. Well, guess the others ’ll want to 
say good-bye. Wish you’d drop me a line some 
time, eh? I’ll write, too, when I get a chance. 
But you know how it’s going to be this fall, with 
a lot of new fellows to break in and Murphy away 
more’n half the time, and ” 

^‘Sure, Sum, I know, but you’ll get by all right. 
I wish I could be here when you play Norristown, 
but I suppose I’ll be busy myself. So long!” 

After that there was much confusion. Wade 
Jennings shoved a package tied with blue and 
white ribbon, the high school colours, into Dick’s 
hands and tried to make the presentation speech he 
had been practising for two days. But everyone 


THE DEPARTUEE OF A HERO 5 
talked at once, the train came thundering in, and 
his stammers were drowned in the tumult. Dick 
had to shake hands all around, darting across the 
platform at the last moment to say good-bye to 
Hogan, and then listening to his father ^s final in- 
structions as to tickets and changing at Philadel- 
phia. A grinning porter took charge of his luggage 
and Dick followed him up the car steps and from 
the platform smilingly surveyed the laughing 
crowd below. Afterwards it came to him that 
Wally Nourse had been the only one who had 
looked really sorry, that the others were merely 
merry and excited! Of course he excepted his 
father. Poor old dad had really looked quite down 
at the mouth when, pursued by the high school 
cheer, the train had pulled out. Tommy Nutting, 
true to the last to his role of school jester, had 
blown kisses from the summit of a baggage truck, 
and Doris Ferguson had pretended to wipe tears 
from her eyes. The rest was a confused memory. 

Dick found his seat in the parlour car and 
watched the frayed and tattered hem of Leonard- 
ville disappear: the brick-yards, the carpet fac- 
tory, the blocks of monotonous, square, lead-hued 
houses of the operatives, the tumble-dowm quarter 
known as Povertyville, and then, at last, the open 
country still green and smiling. His last glimpse 


6 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 

was of the slender steeple of the Baptist church, 
white above the old elms around it. He changed 
his straw hat for a light-weight cap and opened a 
magazine he had tossed into his hag at the last 
moment. Then, however, his eyes fell on the rib- 
boned package and he picked it up eagerly. The 
next moment he remembered his neighbours up 
and down the aisle and so he pretended to sup- 
press a yawn as he struggled with the entwined 
ribbons. When the covering was off he found a 
pair of silver-backed military brushes hidden 
amidst much rustling white tissue and a folded 
sheet of paper. The brushes weren’t half bad, 
and although he already had a pair, he made up 
his mind to use them. The message read: “To 
Richard Corliss Bates from his friends and fellow- 
members of the L. H. S. M. C.” Then followed 
some thirty names, the complete roster of the 
High School Musical Club, and, in a lower corner, 
in Wade Jennings’ uncertain writing, the further 
message: “There wasn’t time to have them 
marked, but they’ll do it the first time you come 
home.” 

Dick was pleased in a complacent way. The 
brushes were nicer, in better taste than he had ex- 
pected they would be. Of course he had known 
they were coming: trust Wally for that! But even 


7 


THE DEPAKTUEE OF A HEEQ 

if Wally hadn’t talked, Dick would have expected 
a gift of some sort. He was the sort who got gifts, 
not through any effort of his, but because folks 
liked him and seemed to w^ant to do things for him. 
He never went out of his way to gain popularity. 
He didn’t have to. But he enjoyed it thoroughly, 
and, having known it for some time, had become to 
regard it as his right. Today, the silver brushes 
pleased him not because of their value, which, after 
all, wasn’t great, but because they stood as a fur- 
ther tribute to his popularity. 

Dick was seventeen, the right height for his 
age, slender in a well-muscled, athletic way, and 
^jiideniably gooddooking. His features were regu- 
lar, with a rather high forehead and a well-cut 
straight nose. His eyes were brown, a warm 
brown that held a suggestion of red, and matched 
his hair. He had a fair complexion with plenty 
of healthy colour in the cheeks. It was one of the 
few sorrows of his life that he didn’t tan readily, 
that he had to go through a beastly period of sun- 
burn and peeling skin before he could attain a 
decent shade of brown. He seemed unaware of 
his personal attractions, whether he was or not, 
and his smile, which was not the least of them, 
won where mere good looks failed. He always 
stood high in his class, for he learned easily. He 


8 QUABTER-BACK BATES 

had a gift for music and could play any instru- 
ment at least passably after a surprisingly short 
acquaintance. He had a pleasant speaking voice 
and sang an excellent tenor on the school Glee 
Club. But it was perhaps in the less polite pur- 
suits that he excelled. He had a record of ten and 
two-fifths for the hundred yards and had done the 
two-twenty under twenty-four. He was a fair 
high-jumper, usually certain of third place in the 
Dual Meet. In the water he was brother to a fish. 
He had played baseball one season not at all badly 
and could fill in at basket ball if needed. But, 
when all is said, Dick’s line was football. He 
had played two years on the High School Team 
at quarter-back. Last year he had been offered 
the captaincy without a dissenting voice and had 
refused it, announcing, what he had kept a secret 
until then, that he was leaving at the end of the 
school year, and nominating Sumner White. 
That Sumner was promptly elected was a further 
proof of Dick’s popularity, for ordinarily Sum- 
ner would scarcely have been thought of. As a 
football player Dick was really brilliant. He had 
a collection of fourteen epistles, which he was not 
averse to showing to close friends, from as many 
preparatory schools and smaller colleges urging 
him to consider their advantages to a person of his 


THE DEPAETURE OF A HERO 


9 


scholastic attainments. Parkinson School, how- 
ever, was not represented in that collection, per- 
haps because Parkinson was too far away for his 
fame to have reached it. Hick had chosen Parkin- 
son for the completion of his preparation for col- 
lege only because his brother Stuart had graduated 
from there some five years before. Stuart had 
talked of Parkinson so much that Hick felt that he 
knew the school and that he was certain to like it. 
He might have entered two years ago, but had 
chosen to remain at the high school until he could 
go to the preparatory school with a fair chance of 
making the football team. He believed now that 
the time had arrived. Although he had belittled 
his chances in conversation with Sumner White, 
secretly Hick entertained few doubts of his ability 
to make the Parkinson team. 

He was entering the Third Class and had been 
assigned a room in Sohmer Hall. Brother Stuart 
had advised Sohmer, since it was the newest of 
the dormitory buildings, and Hick had made appli- 
cation the year before. To his regret, he had not 
been able to get a room to himself, but the fact 
didnT trouble him greatly. In fact he recog- 
nised certain advantages accruing from a room- 
mate. Who that person was to be he had not yet 
learned. 


10 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

His train reached Philadelphia at a few min- 
utes before eleven and he had just time to buy a 
morning paper before the New York Express left. 
He didn’t waste much time on the front page of 
the journal, soon turning to the football and ath- 
letic news. A hair-breadth connection in New 
York put him on the last lap of his journey, and, 
after a deliberative meal in the diner and the 
perusal of one story in the magazine, it was time 
to gather his luggage together. The train slid into 
Warne at three-fifty, and Dick, not a little excited 
under his appearance of perfect calm, alighted. 


CHAPTEE n 


^‘WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE’^ 

Stuaet had instructed him so thoroughly that 
Dick knew just which way to turn in order to find 
a conveyance to carry him to the school, but Stuart 
had spoken of carriages and Dick found nothing 
but chugging “flivvers’’ manned by eager and 
noisy youths to whom he hesitated to entrust his 
life. Automobiles, he presumed, had arrived since 
Stuart’s time. Dick remained so long in doubt 
that, almost before he knew it, all but one of the 
throbbing taxies had found their loads and gone 
rattling otf over the cobbles. He made his way 
to the remaining conveyance quickly then, but not 
so quickly as to reach it first. A boy a year or so 
older already had a hand on the door when Dick 
arrived. 

“Goss, Eddie,” Dick heard the boy say. “And 
don’t spare the horses!” 

But Eddie, who Dick had earlier decided was 
the least attractive of the half-dozen drivers, was 
not losing any chances. 

“Yes, sir! Parkinson School? Step right in. 

11 


12 QUAilTER-BACK BATES 

The gentleman inside won’t mind. What build- 
ing, sir?” 

‘^Sohmer,” answered Dick. And then, to the 
occupant ; ‘ ‘ Mind if I go along ? ” he asked. ‘ ‘ This 
seems to be the only taxi left.” 

^‘Not a hit. The more the merrier! Besides,” 
he continued as the car shot away from the plat- 
form with a jerk, wheeled suddenly to the left 
and dashed headlong over the cobbles, ‘4t makes 
for economy. They put the fare up last spring. 
It would have cost me a half if I’d gone alone. By 
the way, are you in a great hurry?” 

<< Why, no,” answered Dick. 

^‘Well, I am.” He leaned toward the open win- 
dow in front. ‘‘Take me to Goss first, Eddie,” he 
directed. 

He was a tall, rather thin and very long-legged 
youth with a nose that matched the other specifica- 
tions, and a pair of blue-grey eyes that, in spite of 
their owner’s grave and serious expression, 
seemed to hold a twinkle of amusement or per- 
haps of mischief. He had placed a very battered 
suit-case before him on the floor of the car and 
now put his feet on it, settled to the small of his 
back and turned a look of polite inquiry on Dick. 

“My name’s Quiggle,” he said, “Washington 
P. Quiggle.” He made a feeble motion toward a 


‘‘WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE^’ 13 

pocket. “I haven T a card with me, I fear. I 
have, believe me, no desire to thmst my acquaint- 
ance on you, but since Fate has thrown us to- 
gether like this ’’ He paused apologetically. 

“That’s all right,” said Dick. “Very glad to 
meet you. My name is Bates.” He smiled. 
Eather to his surprise Washington Quiggle didn’t 
smile back. Instead, he put his head a bit on 
one side and seemed to regard Dick speculatingly. 

“Showing the teeth slightly,” he murmured. 
At least, that’s what Dick thought he said, but as 
there was no sense in the remark, perhaps he was 
mistaken. 

“I beg pardon!” 

“Oh, did I speak!” asked Quiggle. “A lament- 
able habit of mine, Mr. Bates, unconsciously giv- 
ing utterance to my thoughts. A habit inherited 
from my grandfather on my mother’s side. Most 
annoying at times and likely to lead to an errone- 
ous impression of my mentality. And speaking of 
my grandfather, a most worthy and respected 
citizen in spite of the misfortune that overtook 
him in his later years ; I refer, of course, to the 
loss of his mind, accompanied, or should I say 
superseded, by homicidal mania; speaking of him, 
then, suppose I relieve myself of my portion of 
the expenses of this placid journey, thus.” He 


14 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

dug a hand into a trousers pocket and produced a 
twenty-five cent piece which he handed to Dick. 
‘‘It will save time and — was about to say money 
— and trouble if you will settle with Edward for 
us both. I thank you.’’ 

“Of course,” murmured Dick. By now he was 
rather hoping that Goss Hall would be reached be- 
fore his companion’s perfectly evident insanity 
took a violent turn! For there was no doubt in 
Dick’s mind but that Mr. Washington P. Quiggle 
was what in the everyday language of Leonard- 
ville was known as a “nut.” Quiggle had closed 
his eyes and appeared to be on the verge of slum- 
ber, and after a moment’s concerned observation 
of him Dick turned his gaze to the town through 
which the car was speeding. The cobbles had 
given place to asphalt and while Quiggle ’s choice 
of the word “placid” was not entirely justified, at 
least the car was running much more quietly and 
far more smoothly. There were some decent 
looking shops on each side of the street and a 
fairly imposing office building occupied one cor- 
ner of the street into which the taxi suddenly and 
disconcertingly turned. The lurch may have 
brought momentary consciousness back to Quig- 
gle, for his eyes opened and closed and he re- 
marked quite distinctly; 


‘‘WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE^^ 15 

“Hard a lee! Man the water-butt! Aye, aye, 
sir!’’ 

A pleasant wide thoroughfare opened to view 
right and left at the end of a block, and Dick 
caught sight of attractive houses set back from the 
street and lawns and gardens between. Then, 
without diminishing it’s twenty-five-miles-an-hour 
speed, the taxi dashed between two stone gate 
posts and scurried up a gravelled road bisecting a 
wide expanse of level turf. Trees grew on each 
side, but between them Dick had occasional 
glimpses of the school buildings which, for the 
most part, were spaced along the further side of 
the campus. Parkinson Hall he recognised readily 
from the picture in the school catalogue, a white 
marble edifice surmounted by a glassed dome, but 
which was Sohmer he wasn’t certain. Having 
crossed the width of the campus, the taxi swerved 
perilously to the right in front of Parkinson and 
dashed on until, with a sudden and unexpected ap- 
plication of the brakes, the driver brought it to a 
tottering stand-still before the entrance of a brick 
building. The jar aroused Quiggle and he sat up. 

“Ah! Home again as we perceive! Back to 
the classic shades of our dear old Alma Mater!” 
he exclaimed as he opened the door on his side by 
the pressure of one bony knee against the handle 


16 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

and seized his bag. ‘‘Mr. Bates, I sincerely trust 
that we shall meet again. Should you care to pur- 
sue the acquaintance so— so — dare I say — fortu- 
nately brought about, you have but to inquire of 
any resident of this palatial dwelling in order to 
learn of my place of abode, I’d tell you the num- 
ber of my room were it not that, owing to an in- 
herited weakness of memory, I cannot at the mo- 
ment recall it. Eddie, the gentleman within will 
pay your outrageous charge.” 

“Yeah, I know, but ” 

“Edward,” interrupted Quiggle sternly, “the 
gentleman has my fare and will deliver it to you 
with his own. Drive on!” 

After a moment of indecision and muttering, 
Edward drove on. Looking back through the rear 
window of the car, Dick saw Quiggle wave grandly, 
beneficently ere, bag in hand, he disappeared into 
Goss. 

There was another turn, again to the right, 
and once more the car stopped. “Here you are, 
sir,” announced the driver. “Sohmer Hall. 
You’ll excuse me if I don’t take your bag 
in for you, but we ain’t allowed to leave the 
car.” 

“That’s all right,” said Dick, emerging. 
“Here you are.” He held forth a half-dollar. 


‘‘WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE^^ 17 

The driver observed it coldly and made no effort 
to take it. “Quit your kiddinV’ he said. 

“Well, that^s all you’ll get,” replied Dick 
warmly. “That’s the legal fare.” 

“It is, eh? Say, where do you get that stuff! 
Listen, kid. The fare’s fifty cents a person, 
seventy-five for two. Get me?” 

“What! Why, that other fellow said it was — 
An3rw'ay, he gave me a quarter for his share of 
it!” 

The driver nodded wearily. “Sure he would! 
That’s him all over. You’re lucky he didn’t stick 
you for the whole racket. Come across with an- 
other quarter, young feller!” 

Grudgingly, Dick did so. “If you knew Quig- 
gle was that sort ” he began aggrievedly. 

‘ ‘ Who ? ’ ’ asked the driver, a grin growing about 
his mouth. 

“Quiggle. The fellow you left at Goss Hall. I 
say, if you knew ” 

“His name ain’t Quiggle,” jeered the driver. 
“Gee, that’s a peach! Quiggle! What do you 
know about that?” 

“What is his name then?” demanded Dick 
haughtily. 

“His name’s— Well, it ought to be Slippery 
Simpson, but it ain’t!” 


18 QUABTER-BACK BATES 

Whereupon there was a deafening grinding of 
gears, a snort, and the “flivver” swung about on 
two wheels and went charging off. 

Dick looked after it disgustedly and then, tak- 
ing up his suit-case, mounted the steps of Sohmer. 
“ I dl Quiggle him when I catch him ! ” he muttered. 
“Fresh chump!” 

In consequence of the episode, Dick reached his 
room on the second floor decidedly out of sorts. 
He didn’t mind being cheated out of twelve or 
thirteen cents, but it disgruntled him to be made 
a fool of. He wasn’t used to it. At home no one 
would have though of attempting such a silly trick 
on him. He experienced, for the first time since 
leaving Leonardville, a qualm of apprehension. 
If Quiggle, or whatever his silly name really was, 
was a fair sample of the fellows he was to meet at 
Parkinson, the outlook for being treated with the 
respect that he was accustomed to was not at all 
satisfactory. Unconsciously he had journeyed to 
Warne under the impression that his appearance 
at school would be hailed with, if not excited ac- 
claim, at least with measurable satisfaction. And 
here the first fellow he had run across had played 
a perfectly rotten joke on him! Dick’s dignity 
was considerably ruffled. 

Number 14 proved to be a corner study, but not 


‘^WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE^’ 19 

on the front. It wasn’t a bad room, Dick decided 
a bit patronisingly, and the view from the windows 
was satisfactory. On one side he looked across a 
bit of the campus and over to the wide street that 
was lined with gardens and lawns : Faculty Row it 
was called, although Dick didn’t know it then. 
From the other window he saw a tree-shaded, as- 
phalt-paved road and one or two old-fashioned 
white dwellings beyond, and a corner of a square 
brick building set at a little distance just inside the 
grounds. That, unless he was mistaken, was the 
Administration Building, and he must go there 
shortly and register. 

Dick turned to the alcove bedroom divided from 
the study by curtains. There were two single 
beds there, two dressers and two chairs, and a 
single window gave light. Also, on one of the beds 
was an open suit-case, its contents tumbling over 
onto the white counterpane. One battered end 
showed the initials “S. G.” Dick wondered if 
the S stood for Sam. Approaching footsteps 
in the corridor turned his eyes toward the door, 
but the steps stopped at a room across the way. 
There followed the sound of a bag dropped to the 
floor and then the opposite door banged shut. 
Dick, back in the study, viewed it without en- 
thusiasm. It was smaller than he liked and the 


20 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

furniture, while there was plenty of it — two small 
study tables, each under its own side-light, what 
he mentally dubbed a ‘‘near-leather” couch, two 
easy-chairs and two straight-backed chairs — ^was 
very evidently far from new. There was a faded 
blue carpet-rug on the floor and a short window- 
seat occupied the embrasure that held the end 
window. The original colour-scheme had been 
brown and blue, but the deep tan cartridge paper 
had faded, as had the alcove curtains and the rug. 
Here and there, on the walls, a square or oblong 
of a deeper shade showed where a picture had 
hung. 

Dick had left the hall door ajar and now he was 
aware of much noise and bustle throughout the 
building. Doors in the various corridors opened 
and shut, voices called, someone further along the 
hall was singing, while, outside, a taxi chugged 
before the entrance. Dick put his hat on and went 
out, passing several new arrivals on the way and 
exchanging with them swiftly appraising glances. 
The Administration Building stood only a few 
rods away and Dick’s business was soon attended 
to, for only a half-dozen or so were before him. 
Having paid his term bill and inscribed his name 
on a card that was handed him, he was given a 
booklet containing the school regulations and gen- 


^‘WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE’^ 


21 


eral information, a receipt for liis money and a 
mled card on which to schedule his recitations. 
Beside the door was a bulletin board and he paused 
to read some of the notices posted there. There 
was a reception to new students that evening at 
the Principal’s residence, a half-year course in 
geometrical drawing would be conducted by Mr. 
McCreedy for First and Second Class students 
and those wishing to sign on should notify him by 
Saturday, Mr. Nolan would not be able to see stu- 
dents in his advisory capacity until Thursday, 
subscriptions to The Leader could be left at the 
office here or at the room of the publication, and 
so on. But the notice that interested Dick most 
ran as follows: 

“Candidates for the First Football Team should 
report on the field, dressed to play, not later than 
W ednesday. Attention is called to the school regu- 
lation requiring the candidate to pass a satisfac- 
tory physical examination before joining the 
squad. Stearns Whipple, Mgr.” 

Outside, Dick pulled the booklet from his pocket 
and sought information regarding physical exami- 
nations. He found a whole page on the subject. 
It was necessary, it appeared, to go to the Physi- 


22 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 

cal Director’s office in tlie gymnasium and make 
application for an appointment. Students failing 
to keep appointments promptly were required to 
make new ones. There was much more, but that 
was sufficient for the present, and Dick made his 
way back along the road to the gymnasium. In- 
side, he had to take his place in a line of nearly a 
dozen boys, and progress toward the wicket, be- 
hind which a youth not much older than Dick sup- 
plied information or made out appointment cards, 
was slow. Eventually, though, Dick reached the 
window, made known his wants and was given a 
slip of pasteboard which informed him that the 
Physical Director would see him at five-fifteen on 
Wednesday. That was the day after tomorrow. 
It looked to Dick as if he could not report for 
football until he had been passed by the Physical 
Director and could not be passed by the director 
until it was too late to report for football ! Per- 
haps, however, that notice in the Administration 
Building didn’t mean quite what it said. He would 
ask someone when he found the chance. 

With an hour remaining before supper time and 
nothing better to do, he wandered across to where 
a score of fellows were trotting about the gridiron 
or kicking and catching at the further end of it. 
That first uninterrupted sight of Parkinson Field 


‘‘WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE” 23 

greatly increased his respect for the school, and 
he pansed at a corner of the big grand stand and 
admired. Nearly twelve acres of level turf 
stretched before him. There were three gridirons, 
that of the First Team enclosed by a quarter-mile 
track, as well as several baseball diamonds and 
numerous tennis courts, both dirt and grass. A 
handful of onlookers were scattered over the stand 
and another handful stood along the side-line. A 
stout, round-faced man in an old sweater and a 
pair of frayed trousers had “Trainer’’ written all 
over him, and since at the moment he was occupied 
only in juggling a football from one hand to the 
other, Dick decided to seek information of him. 

“My name’s Bates,” announced Dick, “and 
I’m going to try for the team, but I understand 
that I’ve got to take my physical examination first. 
Is that correct?” 

Billy Goode viewed him critically before he 
answered. Bather to Dick’s surprise the trainer 
seemed not at all impressed by what he saw. 
“You can report as soon as you like,” he replied 
at last, “but you can’t play until you’ve been 
0 . k.’d, my friend. What’s your name?” 

“Bates,” answered Dick. He had already given 
it once, but perhaps the other hadn’t caught it. 
“I’m from Leonardville High.” 


24 QUAJtTER-BACK BATES 

Played, have you!^’ 

^‘Yes/’ It seemed to Dick that any live, wide- 
awake football trainer should have been aware of 
the fact. ‘‘Yes, IVe played quite a little.’’ 

“Uh-huh. Well, you see the manager; he’s 
around here somewhere, or he was ; he’ll look after 
you. Chandler! That’ll do for today. Jog the 
track once and go on in.” Billy Goode turned 
away to meet the remonstrances of a big, heavily- 
built youth who had been catching punts and re- 
turning them a little further along the field, leav- 
ing Dick a trifle ruffled. This was not just the sort 
of reception he had expected. Of course, it was 
understandable that the Philadelphia papers didn’t 
penetrate to Warne, Massachusetts, in which case 
the trainer wouldn’t have read of him, but it did 
seem that a fellow who had received offers from 
fourteen schools and colleges should have been 
heard of even in this corner of the world! Dick 
put the trainer down as a person of a low order 
of mentality. 

He went into the stand and sat down there and 
watched the practice. Evidently most of the fel- 
lows at work were last year players, for they 
handled the ball in a knowing way that precluded 
their being beginners. No one who looked any- 
thing like a coach was on hand, but a dark-haired 


‘^WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE^’ 


25 


fellow of eighteen, perhaps, who appeared in 
connnand, was probably the captain. And a short, 
stocky, important-looking youth who had discarded 
his jacket and was wandering around in a very 
blue silk shirt was just as probably the manager. 
Dick didn’t seek him, for there would be plenty 
of time to do that tomorrow. At intervals the 
trainer summoned one of the candidates and sent 
him off, usually prescribing a round of the running 
track first. Dick was glad he did not have to 
swallow that medicine today, for the weather was 
extremely warm and humid. He thought that the 
candidates averaged both heavier and older than 
he had expected, and he wondered if by any chance 
his lack of weight would be against him. One 
of the quarter-backs out there, chasing a squad 
about in signal drill, was, however, no bigger than 
he, and possibly no older. Dick guessed he needn’t 
trouble about lack of weight. Quarters didn’t 
have to be big in order to make good. Presently 
the practice ended and he followed the squad 
toward the gymnasium and then went back to 
Sohmer and climbed the slate stairway to the 
second floor. 

He remembered having closed the door of 
Number 14 on going out, and since it now stood 
wide open it was fair to assume that the unknown 


26 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

‘‘S. had returned, and Dick entered the study 
eager, in spite of his seeming indifference, to find 
out what Fate, in the shape of the school office, 
had assigned' to him as a room-mate. 


CHAPTEE ni 


BOOM-MATES 

The appearance of the study seemed to have been 
changed in his absence, and Dick’s second glance 
showed that the change was in the shape of several 
pictures on the wall, some books on one of the 
study tables and a large packing case in the centre 
of the floor from which emerged the corner of a 
brilliant blue cushion and the lower half of a boy. 
While Dick looked the rest of the youth emerged 
slowly until at last, somewhat flushed of face, he 
stood entirely revealed, clutching triumphantly a 
pair of battered running shoes. At that moment 
his eyes fell on Dick and a surprised and very 
pleasant smile came to his face. He tossed the 
shoes to the floor, dusted his hands by a simple 
expedient of rubbing them on his trousers, and 
nodded, stepping around a corner of the big box. 

Hello!” he said. suppose you’re Bates. 
My name’s Gard.” 

He held out a hand and Dick took it as he an- 
swered : ‘ ‘ Yes. Glad to meet you. We’re in here 
together, I take it.” 


27 


28 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

Gard nodded. ‘‘Yes. I got here this noon and 
helped myself to a desk, but I’m not particular 
which I have. Same about the beds. We can 
toss up, if you like.” 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Dick replied. 
“Suppose you take the first choice of a desk and 
I’ll take the bed I want. That suit?” 

“Sure.” Gard was looking at Dick with frank 
interest, leaning against the packing case, his arms, 
on which he had rolled up the sleeves of a good- 
looking shirt, folded. “Yes, that’s fair enough. I 
took that desk because it happened to be nearest 
the box, and I’ll keep it.” 

:• Dick laid his hat down and seated himself on the 
window-seat. 

“It’s smaller than I thought it would be,” he 
said, looking about the study. 

“Oh, big enough, isn’t it? It is one of the 
small ones, though. Some of the rooms on the 
front are corkers. Bates. I couldn’t afford one 
of those, though, and this is a lot better than the 
room I had last year in Goss.” 

“Then you— you’re not a new fellow?” 

Gard shook his head. “This is my second year. 
I’m in the Third Class. Are you?” 

“Yes. I think I could have passed for the 
Fourth, but 1 guess I’d had to work mighty hard 


EOOM-MATES 29 

to keep up, and I want to play football, you see. 
So 

‘‘Of course! There’s no sense rushing through 
things too much. Bates. If you’d gone into the 
Fourth you’d have been through just when you 
were beginning to like the school. You will like 
it, I’m sure.” 

“I expect to. I had a brother here five or six 
years ago, and he ’s always cracked it up high. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That so r ’ Gard pulled the blue cushion from 
the box and tossed it across the room. “Put that 
behind you. Guess I’ll leave the rest of this truck 
until after supper.” He seated himself in one of 
the easy chairs and stretched a pair of rather long 
legs across the carpet. “Let’s get acquainted,” hei 
added, smiling. 

Dick liked that smile and answered it. But for 
a moment neither followed the suggestion. Gard 
was looking critically at the pictures he had hung, 
and Dick had a good chance to size him up. His 
room-mate was a bit taller than Dick, with rather 
a loose-jointed way of moving. He didn’t look 
exactly thin, but there certainly wasn’t any excess 
flesh about him. The running shoes suggested 
that he was a track athlete, and Dick surmised that 
he was a good one. You couldn’t call Gard hand- 
some; perhaps he wasn’t even good-looking in the 


30 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

general acceptance of the word; but Dick liked 
his face none the less. The forehead was high 
and the lightish hair of a rather indeterminate 
shade of brown was brushed straight back from 
it. That happened to be a style of wearing the 
hair that Dick had always objected to, but he had 
to own that the fashion suited Card very well. It 
emphasised the lean length of the face and added 
to the sharp, hawk-like appearance produced by a 
curved beak of a nose, thin and pointed, and the 
narrow jaws. But if Gard reminded Dick of a 
hawk, it was a gentle and kindly one, for the mouth 
was good-natured and the eyes, darkly grey, were 
soft and honest. Gard wore good clothes with no 
suggestion of extravagance. In age he was fully 
seventeen, perhaps a year more. He moved his 
gaze from the wall and it met Dick’s. Involuntar- 
ily both boys smiled. Then each began to speak 
at once, stopped simultaneously and laughed. 

‘‘You say it,” said Gard. 

“I was going to ask if you were a runner.” 

“I’m a hurdler. I’ve tried the sprints, but I’ni 
only as good as a dozen others. Sometimes I 
‘double’ in the broad- jump if we need the points. 
You look as if you might be fast on the track. 
Bates. By the way, what’s the rest of your 
name?” 


EOOM-MATES 31 

‘‘Eichard C. The C^s for Corliss/^ 

‘^That means Dick, doesn’t it?” 

‘^Surely,” laughed the other. 

^^All right. Mine’s Stanley; usually abbrevi- 
ated to Stan. Have you ever done any running, 
Dick?” 

‘‘Yes, I’ve done some sprinting. [What’s the 
hundred-yards record here?” 

“A fifth. It hasn’t been bettered in years.” 

“That’s a fifth better than I can do.” 

“Same here. I tried often enough, too, but I 
only did it once, and that was in practice, with a 
hard wind at my back. You play football, you 
said?” 

“Yes, do you?” 

Stanley shook his head. “Too strenuous for me. 
I like baseball pretty weU, but it interferes with 
track work. Guess we’re going to have a cork- 
ing good eleven this year, and I hope you’ll make 
it, Dick.” 

“Thanks. I may. The fellows look a bit 
older and bigger than I expected they would, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Well, they say you have a good deal of fun 
on the Second Team, if you don’t make the first. 
And next year you’ll probably be a lot heavier. I 
don’t know many of the football crowd, or I’d 


32 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

take you around and introduce you. I wonder if 
Blash would do you any good.’’ 

‘‘Who is he?” 

“Wallace Blashington’s his full name. He plays 
tackle on the team ; right, I think. He might be a 

good fellow for you to know if ” Stanley’s 

voice trailed into silence. 

“If what?” prompted Dick. 

“Well, Blash is a queer customer. He’s really 
a corking chap, but doesn’t take to many fellows. 
That ’s no insult to you, Dick. He — ^he ’s just funny 
that way. And he’s the sort that won’t do a thing 
if he thinks you’re trying to pull his leg. Blash 
hated me — well, no, he didn’t hate me; he didn’t 
take the trouble to do that; but he certainly had 
no use for me the first of last year. We get along 
all right now, though.” 

“What happened? To make him change his 
mind, I mean.” 

“That was sort of funny.” Stanley smiled 
reminiscently. “We had some scrub skating 
races last winter on the river and Blash and I 
were entered in the two-mile event. There were 
about twenty starters altogether, but we had them 
shaken at the beginning of the last lap and Blash 
and I hung on to each other all the way up the 
river to the finish. I just managed to nose him out 


EOOM-MATES 33 

at the line, and he was a bit peeved, I guess. He 
didn’t let on, but he was. So, a little while later, 
when we were watching the other events, he came 
over where I was and said: H believe I could beat 
you another time, Gard.’ ‘Well, perhaps you 
could,’ I answered. ‘Maybe you’ll have a chance 
to find out.’ I wasn’t cross, but I thought it was 
a bit unnecessary, if you see what I mean. 
‘Wouldn’t care to try it now, I suppose?’ he 
said. I told him I was tired out, but I’d race him 
if he liked as soon as the programme was finished. 
‘Oh, never mind the rest of it,’ he said. ‘We’re 
both through. Say we skate down the river a ways 
and settle the question by ourselves.’ So we did. 
We went about a mile down, beyond the flag, and 
Blash said we’d skate a mile down and a mile back, 
and that we’d turn at the old coal wharf. So we 
went off together, Blash trying to make me set 
the pace. But I wouldn’t and so we lagged along 
abreast for half a mile or so. Then Blash laughed 
and spurted and I went after him and we had it 
nip and tuck all the way to the wharf. Coming 
back there was a wind blowing down on us and we 
had harder work. Blash was a half-dozen yards 
ahead and when we came to a turn in the river he 
stayed along the bank, thinking he ’d be more out of 
the wind. That seemed good sense and I hugged in 


34 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

close behind him. Then, first thing I knew, the ice 
went crach, and down went Blash. I managed to 
swerve out and get by, but of course I had to go 
back and see if he was all right. 

‘‘He was about ten feet from shore, flapping 
around in a little squarish hole he’d made for 
himself. I asked him if he could break the ice 
and get ashore and he said he couldn’t, that it was 
too thick to break with his hands. So I laid down 
on the ice and crawled over to him, and he got hold 
of my hands and I had him pretty nearly out when 
the crazy ice broke again and we were both in 
there I In fact, I went down so far that I came up 
under the ice and Blash had to pull me out to 
the hole. By that time we were both laughing so 
we could hardly keep our heads out. The water 
was just over our depth and the ice was too hard 
to break with our hands, and we didn’t have any- 
thing else until I thought of using a skate. That 
meant getting boot and all off, and Blash sort of 
held me up while I tried to untie the laces and 
everything. We were getting pretty stiff with the 
cold by then, Blash especially, but I finally 
managed to get one boot oft and began hacking at 
the ice with the skate blade. It was slow work 
until I had chopped off about a yard. Then we 
got our toes on the bottom and after that it was 


EOOM-MATES 


35 


easy and we crawled out. I wanted to beat it back 
to school as fast as I could, but Blash said that 
we’d catch cold and have pneumonia and die. He 
said the best thing to do was light a fire. Of 
course, I thought he was joking, but he pulled out 
one of those patent water-proof match-safes and if 
you’ll believe it the matches were perfectly dry! 

^^But the awful thing was that there were only 
two matches there I However, we got a lot of wood 
together and some dry marsh grass and twigs, and 
all this and that, and I kept the wind off, and we 
made the second match do the trick. In about two 
minutes we had a dandy hot fire going, took off 
our outer things and hung them around and we sat 
there with our backs to the mud bank and steamed. 
I don’t believe any fire ever felt as good as that 
one did, Dick! Well, that’s all of it. Just before 
dark, we started back and we never told anyone 
about falling into the river for months afterwards. 
We never found out which is the best two-mile 
skater, but we did a lot of chinning and got to 
know each other, and since then Blash and I have 
been quite pally.” 

‘‘Quite an adventure,” said Dick. “It’s a 
y^onder you didn’t catch cold, though.” 

Stanley laughed. “We did! For a week we 
yere both sneezing and snuffling horribly. Tell 


36 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

you wliat, Dick. If you haven’t got anything 
better to do, we might go over and see Blash after 
supper. I guess this truck can wait until to- 
morrow. Only don’t say anything about foot- 
ball' to him. If you do he will think I brought you 
over on purpose, so as to —well, you see what I 
mean.” 

^‘Yes, I see. He might think I was swiping,” 
Dick laughed. ‘‘But, look here, Stan, what could 
he do, anyway? A fellow has got to make his 
own way, hasn’t he?” 

“Why, yes, I suppose so. But it does help — 
somehow — to know the crowd if you’re going in for 
football. At least, it does with making the track 
team. I don’t mean that there’s favouritism, but 
— oh, I suppose if you happen to know a fellow 
and know that he’s all right, you just naturally 
take a bit more interest in him. That’s the way 
I figure it out, anyway.” 

“Yes, but suppose this fellow Blash — er ” 

“Blashington. Quite a mouthful, isn’t it?” 

“Suppose he asks me if I play football? Then 
what?” 

“Oh, just say you do and change the subject. 
By Jupiter, Dick, it’s ten after six! Let’s beat it 
over and get some supper. Say, if you see the 
steward tonight maybe you can get at my table, 


EOOM-MATES 


37 


if you’d like to. Tell him you’ve got friends there. 
It’s Number 9. You can sit there tonight, anyway, 
for Eaton’s not back yet, and you can have his 
place. Know where the lavatory is? Got any 
towels? Here, take one of mine. Your trunk 
won’t get up until morning, probably. They have 
so many of them that they can’t begin to handle 
them all today. If you need anything let me know 
and I’ll dig it out of the box for you.” 

‘ H ’ve got everything I want in my bag, I think. 
Much obliged just the same, Stan.” 

Five minutes later the new friends closed the 
door of Number 14 and made their way along The 
Front, as the brick walk leading from side to side 
of the campus was called. Stanley named the 
buildings for Dick as they went along: the gym- 
nasium, then Goss Hall, Parkinson, Williams and 
Alumni. Their journey ended there, hut there was 
still another dormitory nearby, Leonard, and, 
beyond that, the residence of the Principal. Dick 
nodded, but it was food he was thinking of just 
then. 


CHAPTER rv: 


BLASHINGTON' 

course/’ said Stanley, ‘‘you can go to ‘ Jud’s’ 
reception if you’d rather, but you’ll have a 
poor time. You just shake hands with Jud and 
a bunch of the faculty and Mrs. Jud and stand 
around until you get tired and go home again.” 

“Jud being Doctor Lane?” asked Dick. 

“Right! The idea is that you’re to become ac- 
quainted with the other fellows and the instructors, 
but the old boys fight shy of it and the new boys 
just stand and look at each other, and the faculty 
always forgets your name the next morning.” 

“Well, it doesn’t sound exciting,” acknowl- 
edged Dick, “and I’m for cutting it out unless it’s 
required.” 

“It isn’t, it’s elective,” laughed Stanley. 
“We’ll blow over to Blash’s room presently. He 
may not be there, but we can try.” 

They had finished supper and were strolling 
along the walk toward the west gate. Windows 
were open in the dormitories and from the nearer 
ones came the sound of voices and laughter. 

38 


BLASHINGTON 


39 


Occasionally someone hailed Stanley and they 
stopped for a moment while the latter held conver- 
sation. There were groups of fellows on the turf 
along The Front, for the evening was warm and 
still. A bluish haze softened the twilight distances 
and somewhere toward the centre of the town a 
church bell was ringing. It was all very peaceful 
and homey, and Dick felt no regrets for Leonard- 
ville. At the gate which led onto the junction of 
Linden and Apple Streets they paused a moment. 
A belated arrival climbed tiredly out of a de- 
crepit taxi in front of Williams and staggered up 
the steps bearing suit-case and golf-bag. Along 
the streets and less frequently across the campus 
the lights gathered brightness in the deepening 
twilight, although westward the sky was still 
faintly aglow. 

‘‘Where does Blashington roomT’ asked Dick 
as they turned their steps back the way they had 
come. 

“Goss,’’ answered Stanley. “He rooms with 
Sid Crocker, this year’s baseball captain.” 

“Goss?” Eecollection came to Dick. “I 
wonder if you know a fellow named Quiggle — no, 
that’s not his name. I don’t know what his name 
is, but he rooms in Goss. He’s a tall, lanky chap 
with a long nose.” 


40 QUAKTEE-BACK BATES 

Where ’d you meet himT’ asked Stanley, in- 
terestedly. 

Dick recounted the incident and, since he didn’t 
happen to look at Stanley’s countenance while 
doing so, was not aware of the smile that trembled 
about the hearer’s lips. ‘‘He’s going to pay me 
the rest of that money when I find him,” ended 
Dick resolutely. “I thought maybe you’d know 
who he is.” 

“Well, the description isn’t very — er — ^what- 
youcallit, Dick,” replied the other gravely. “I 
dare say the fellow was just having a joke with 
you. ’ ’ 

“I dare say, but he was too fresh. I felt like 
an awful fool when the taxi driver called me down 
for offering him half a dollar instead of seventy- 
five cents. Well, I suppose I’ll run across him 
pretty soon.” 

“Oh, you will,” Stanley assured him almost 
eagerly “You’re absolutely certain to, Dick!” 

“What’s the jokef” 

“Joke?” 

“Yes, what are you snickering about?” 

“Oh, that? I — I thought I wanted to sneeze. 
It’s sort of dusty this evening.” 

“I hadn’t noticed it,” said Dick suspiciously. 
But Stanley’s countenance was quite devoid of 


BLASHINGTON 


41 


amusement, and he accepted the explanation. In 
front of Goss, Stanley backed off onto the grass 
and looked up to one of the third floor windows. 

‘^There’s a light in his room,’’ he announced. 

Somebody’s in, anyhow. Let’s go up.” 

So, Stanley leading the way, they climbed the 
two flights of worn stairs, for Goss didn’t boast 
slate and iron stairways, and traversed a length 
of corridor to where the portal of Number 27 stood 
partly open. Stanley thumped a couple of times 
on the door and entered. Someone within said, 
‘‘Come in, Stan,” and Dick, following his friend, 
saw a rather short, stockily-made youth stretched 
on the window-seat at the end of the room. “Ex- 
cuse me if I don’t rise,” continued the boy. “I 
happened to look out a minute ago and saw you 
rubbering up here. ’ ’ He shook hands with Stanley 
and then, seeing Dick for the first time, muttered 
something, and swung his feet to the floor. / 

“Shake hands with Bates, Sid,” said Stanley. 
“Dick, this is Mr. Crocker, well-known in athletic 
circles as a shot-putter of much promise.” 

“Shut up,” grumbled Crocker. “Glad to meet 
you,” he added to Dick. “Sit down, you chaps, 
if you can find anything to sit on. Blash has got 
his things all over the shop. Bring up that chair 
for your friend, Stan. You can sit here, and I’ll 


42 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

put my feet on you. Pardon me if I return to a 
recumbent position, will youf I’m very weary.’’ 

Where’s Blasb!” asked Stanley. “Gone over 
to Jud’s, I suppose.” 

“Not exactly. He’s down the hall somewhere. 
He suggested tossing up to see whether he or I 
should unpack the bags, and he lost. So, of course, 
he remembered that he had to see a fellow and 
beat it. He will be back in a few minutes, I guess. 
This is a fair sample of the way in which he meets 
his obligations, gentlemen. I’m ashamed of 
him.” 

Sid Crocker sighed, stretched, and deposited his 
feet in Stanley’s lap. He was a nice looking boy 
of apparently eighteen years, with light hair and 
a round, much tanned face. He seemed unneces- 
sarily serious of countenance, Dick thought, but 
afterwards he found that Sid’s expression of 
gravity was no indication of mood. Sid caught 
Dick’s gaze and was reminded of his duties as 
host. 

“I guess I didn’t quite get your name,” he said, 
politely. 

“Bates,” said Stanley. “We’re together over 
in Sohmer. This is his first year. ’ ’ 

“Bates!” echoed Sid. “Bates! Where have 
I — ^Ah! I remember.” He sank back against the 


BLASHINGTON 


43 


cushions again, closing his eyes as though in deep 
thought. Dick determined to be modest, but it was 
flattering to find that someone here had heard 
of him. He waited for Crocker to proceed, and so 
did Stanley, but instead Sid wriggled off the win- 
dow-seat. Just excuse me a minute, will youT^ 
He crossed to a chiffonier, opened a drawer and 
fumbled within. Just remembered something. 
Fellow downstairs wanted me to lend him — 

er ’’ Whatever it was the fellow downstairs 

required they didn’t learn, for Sid removed some- 
thing from drawer to pocket and made for the 
corridor. “While I’m about it,” he added from the 
doorway, “I’ll find Blash and fetch him back.” 
Dick got the impression that he was seeking to con- 
vey to Stanley more than his words expressed, for 
he stared very hard at that youth as he spoke and 
continued to stare for an instant longer before he 
disappeared. 

“Rather a joUy old room,” said Stanley, when 
they were alone. “These old places fix up 
nicely, I think.” 

Dick agreed. Personally he didn’t care for the 
idea of sleeping and living in the same room, but 
the low studding, and the deep window embrasure 
and the scarred, dark-painted woodwork were 
somehow very homelike. The walls held dozens of 


44 QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

pictures of all sorts ; photographs, posters, engrav- 
ings, etchings, a veritable hodge-podge. Amongst 
them were strange trophies, too : part of a wooden 
board bearing the strange legend ‘‘TE WAY 
S PASSING’^ in two lines, evidently half of a 
sign that had been sawed in two ; a fencing mask; 
a canoe paddle with a weird landscape painted on 
the broad end; a cluster of spoons and forks tied 
together with a brown-and- white ribbon; several 
tennis rackets; a lacrosse stick; a battered base- 
ball adorned with letters and figures and tacked 
to the moulding by its torn covering; several faded 
or tattered penants, one bearing a big blue K which 
Dick presumed stood for the rival school of Ken- 
wood. Between the two narrow beds was a good- 
sized study table littered with books and clothing 
and odds and ends awaiting Blashington’s return. 
Two chiffoniers and three chairs about completed 
the furnishings. The beds held bags, partly un- 
packed, and two steamer trunks blocked the pas- 
sages between beds and table. 

^‘Blash has had this room four years, mused 
Stanley. ‘‘Says he would be homesick if he went 
anywhere else. The joke about Sid’s shot putting, 
by the way, is that he tried it last fall and Blash 
got a cannonball that weighed about thirty pounds, 
and worked it off on him. Sid almost killed him- 


BLASHINGTON 


45 


self trying to putt it more than twelve feet. Then 
he noticed that Blash and the others were using 
another shot, and got onto the joke. Here they 
come.’’ 

With Sydney Crocker was a tall, thin fellow 
who, to Dick’s utter amazement, wore a long and 
drooping black moustache. Perhaps the gorgeous 
luxuriance of that moustache was a surprise to 
Stanley as well, for Dick noted that the latter 
stared at it fascinatedly for a long moment ere 
he greeted its wearer. Even then he seemed to 
find difficulty in speaking. Perhaps the dust was 
annoying him again. Dick awaited an introduc- 
tion while the thought that there was something 
wrong with that mou&tache, grew from a mere sus- 
picion into a certainty. In the first place, no fel- 
low of Blashington’s age could grow such a thing. 
In the second place he wouldn’t be allowed to 
wear it in a preparatory school. In the third place 
it was much too good to be true; too long, too 
black, too — Why, of course, it was a false one 
stuck on! Dick smiled knowingly as Blashing- 
ton stepped over a trunk and held out a bony 
hand. 

‘‘Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bates,” said Blash- 
ington, heartily. “Any friend of Stan’s is mine 
to the extent of ten dollars. Sit down, everyone. 


46 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

Dear me, you haven’t got these things put away 
yet, Sid. So sorry to have you chaps find the room 
in such a mess. I don’t know what Sid’s been do- 
ing, I’m sure.” Blashington chatted on, but Dick 
noted that there was a distinct air of restraint 
about the others. Indeed, Stanley appeared to be 
actually suffering from restraint, for his face 
was very flushed, and the low sounds that came 
from him spoke of deep pain. 

‘^You are a new-comer, I understand. Bates,” 
Blashington continued, smiling amiably behind 
that ridiculous moustache. ‘‘I hope you wiU like 
us and spend a pleasant and profitable year in 
these classic shades.” 

He said more, but Dick wasn’t listening now. 
^‘Classic shades!” Where had he heard that 
expression recently, and who had used it? Then 
memory came to his aid and he knew! His face 
stiffened and his cheeks paled. Blashington, read- 
ing the symptons aright, paused in his rhetorical 
meanderings and laughed. 

‘‘Bates is on, Stan,” he said. “I see the warm 
light of recollection creeping over his face. 
Further attempts at disguise are futile, not to 
say idle. The clock strikes twelve. Unmask!” 
Blashington pulled the moustache from his face 
and tossed it to the table. “Excuse the little jest, 


BLASHINGTON 47 

Bates. It was Sid’s thought. Like most of his 
ideas, it didn’t work.’’ 

Stanley and Sid were laughing enjoyably, hut 
Dick couldn’t find any humour in the trick. He 
remained silent, while Sid gasped: ‘‘Gee, Blash, 
you did look an awful ass with that thing on!” 

“Did I? Well, I seem to have offended Bates. 
He doesn’t look as though he thought I was a hit 
funny.” 

“I don’t,” said Dick, stifl3y. “Either now or 
this afternoon.” 

“Oh, come, Dick!” protested Stan. “Take a 
joke, won’t youf ” 

“Dry up, Stan,” said Blashington. “Bates 
has a right to feel peeved if he likes to. Look here. 
Bates, I’m sorry I offended you. When you know 
me better you’ll understand that I didn’t mean to. 
Will that do for an apology? ” 

“I think the whole thiug is awfully silly,” re- 
plied Dick coldly, “but it’s of no consequence: 
not enough to talk about.” 

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. 
Then Stanley said hurriedly: “That’s all right 
then! You mustn’t mind Blash, Dick: nobody 
does.” 

Blash, whose expression deep contrition Dick 
had thought suspiciously emphatic, chuckled. “I 


^8 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

thank you, Stan, for them few kind words. Well, 
now that the entente cordial has been restored, 
how are you and everything? Have a good sum- 
mer?’’ 

‘‘Oh, yes, bully. Did you?” 

“I had a busy one, anyway. I’ll tell you about 
it some time. I suppose you’ve heard that Pat 
isn’t coming back this year?” 

“No! Why? What’s the matter?” 

“Gaines told me that he had a letter from Pat 
about two weeks ago, saying that his father had 
lost a lot of money and that he was going to work ; 
Pat, I mean, not his father: although it is likely 
that Mr. Patterson will work, too. It sounds 
reasonable, eh? I’m awfully sorry. Pat was a 
dandy chap. Besides, he’s going to leave a big 
hole to be filled.” 

“That’s right,” agreed Sid Crocker. “Patter- 
son was a corking quarter-back. And he would 
have played on the nine next spring, I’ll bet. He 
swung a mean bat on the Second last year, and 
would have made a mighty good fielder for us, I 
guess. Who will get his place, Blash? ” 

“Stone. Gus isn’t bad, but Pat came pretty 
close to being a marvel. We’re talking about our 
last year’s quarter-back. Bates. Do you care for 
football?” 


BLASHINGTON 49 

Dick felt Stanley's anxious look on him as he 
answered: ^^Yes, I like football, thanks.’’ 

‘^Do you play?” 

have played — some.” 

‘^That’s good. We need talent this year, and 
you look as if you might be clever. ’ ’ Dick knew, 
however, that Blash was only being polite. 

‘^Do you play baseball?” asked Sid. 

‘‘N — ^No, not much. Of course I have played it, 
but I’m not good enough.” His manner was still 
stiff, and he made no effort to remain in the con- 
versation. The others chatted on for some time 
longer, Stanley frequently seeking to get Dick to 
talk, but not succeeding, and then the visitors took 
their departure. 

^‘Drop in again, ' Bates,” said Blash. “If 
there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” 

Dick thanked him non-committingly. Outside 
Stanley shook his head. He was smiling, but 
Dick knew that he wasn’t pleased. “I guess that 
didn’t get us much, Dick,” he said. 

Dick frowned. “Well, I can’t help it!” he said 
defensively. ‘‘He makes me tired. Anyway, if 
I can’t get along in football without his help, I’m 
quite willing to stay out of it.” 

“Oh, that won’t make much difference, I sup- 
pose. I only thought that if Blash took to you ” 


50 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

‘‘Well, he didn’t; any more than I took to 
him. ’ ’ 

“I suppose I ought to have told you he was 
the fellow you rode up from the station with, but 
I didn’t realise that you were really so peeved 
with him. It’s sort of too bad you couldn’t have 
taken it as a joke, Dick.” 

“I’m sorry,” answered the other haughtily. 
“I won’t trouble you to introduce me to any more 
of your friends, Card.” 

“Well, don’t be waxy,” said Stan, good- 
naturedly. ‘ ‘ There ’s no harm done. You may like 
Blash better when you get to know him, and ” 

“I don’t think so. And it doesn’t matter, does 
it?” 

“N — No, except that it’s always nicer to like 
fellows than not to. You get more out of — out 
of life, Dick. Well, never mind Blash. Want to 
go over to Jud’s for a few minutes? It isn’t too 
late.” 

“I don’t know. Yes, I guess I will, but you 
needn’t bother unless you want to.” 

“Oh, I’ll come along. We don’t have to stay. 
Hope there’ll be some eats, though.” 

When they had turned back and were retracing 
their steps along The Front, Dick broke a silence 
of several minutes’ duration. 


BLASHINGTON 51 

‘‘Anyway,’’ he said a trifle resentfully, “I 
noticed one thing.” 

“What’s that?” inquired Stanley. 
“Blashington took mighty good care not to say 
anything about that twelve cents he owes me!” 


CHAPTER V, 


Two busy days followed for Dick. Stanley was 
a great help, however, and getting settled into his 
stride was accomplished fairly easily. There was 
his adviser to see and his courses to arrange : he 
was required to take seven courses, one of them 
elective. For the latter he chose General History, 
not so much because he felt a hankering for such 
knowledge as the course afforded as because it 
entailed but two recitations a week. You see, he 
had to arrange so as not to have studies inter- 
fere too much with football! However, there 
seemed no danger of his not having enough school 
work, for, with History, his grand total was 
twenty-nine hours. 

He passed his physical examination with flying 
colours and on Wednesday set to work with the 
football candidates. Of these there was a start- 
ling number, he thought. The field that afternoon 
was so thickly sprinkled with fellows of all sizes, 
shapes and degrees of experience that there was 
scarcely room to move about. Dick found himself 
62 


BUSTY 


53 


simply one of many, doomed to go through with the 
usual routine of the beginner. At first he felt 
somewhat impatient and even peeved, but pres- 
ently he decided to view the thing as a joke. They 
would very soon see that he belonged in an ad- 
vanced squad, he thought, and meanwhile it 
wouldn^t do him any harm to practice the kinder- 
garten stuff with the rookies. 

The coach didn’t appear until Thursday, and 
when he came, Dick didn’t altogether approve of 
him. In the first place, Dick considered him too 
old: he looked to be every day of thirty-four or 
five. In the second place, Coach Driscoll lacked 
the good-natured, free-and-easy manner that 
Dick’s experience had associated with football in- 
structors. He wasn’t bad looking, and he had 
very evidently kept himself in good physical trim, 
but, being so old, he would, Dick decided, be 
horribly behind the times and out-of-date. ‘ * Tod ’ ’ 
Driscoll was a Parkinson graduate and a Yale 
man. At Yale, he had established an enviable 
reputation as a football player. He had been 
coaching at Parkinson for five years, Dick learned, 
and with success, for in that time the Brown-and- 
White had thrice triumphed over the Blue of Ken- 
wood. And he was popular in spite of the fact 
that he was a very strict disciplinarian. 


54 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

Dick found Captain Bob Peters more to bis 
liking. Peters was a homely, tow-haired, snub- 
nosed chap built like a Greek athlete, with a smil- 
ing countenance and a clear, creamy-brown skin 
against which his grey-blue eyes looked startlingly 
bright. He was cheerful and light-hearted and 
yet could be very intense and very earnest on 
occasions. He played at right end on the team. 
Dick didn’t have any dealings with Captain Peters 
at this period, however, for a youth named Warden 
appeared to have control of his fortunes. War- 
den was a dark-complexioned, earnest fellow who 
never said an unnecessary word to the squad of 
beginners over whom he had been placed, and who 
worked very hard and conscientiously every 
minute. Dick thought he took himself and his 
duty a bit too seriously, but couldn’t help liking 
and respecting him. 

Dick was rather surprised at the extremely 
earnest and business-like way in which football 
practice was conducted. There was so much sys- 
tem and everyone was so serious! Even the 
manager and his hard-working assistant appeared 
to have no thought in life beyond that of turning 
out a successful football team. Billy Goode, the 
trainer, alone seemed to be unaffected by the con- 


“BUSTY’’ 55 

tagion of effort. Billy even found time for a 
laugh and a joke. 

Naturally, Dick was especially interested in the 
quarter-back candidates. He got one of the fellows 
to point out Gus Stone to him, and was relieved 
to find that Stone didn’t look very wonderful. He 
was rather short and perhaps a bit heavier than 
the position demanded, although doubtless a week 
of work would remove some of the weight. There 
was also Cardin, a slighter and younger boy who 
had played the position on the Second Team last 
year. And there were a dozen others, Dick 
amongst them, who had declared their preference 
for the quarter-back job. 

He saw Wallace Blashington now and then on 
the field or in the gymnasium, and Blash always 
spoke, but there was no further meeting until 
the following Saturday. By that time Dick had 
settled down into the routine of school life, and had 
decided that he was going to like Parkinson im- 
mensely and Stanley Gard even more. Dick had 
grown rather used to having other fellows wait 
on him, run his errands and make life easy for him 
in general. He had never consciously asked such 
service, but had received it as a tribute to popu- 
larity. But he was not getting it now. If he had 
expected Stanley to wait on him—and he didn’t 


56 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

know whether he had or not, but probably had!— 
he was doomed to disappointment. Stanley was 
the best-hearted chap in the world, but if one of 
Didi’s shoes had got away from him and taken up 
a temporary abode under Stanley’s bed, it was 
Dick who fished it out. Only once had Dick asked 
a service. Then, seated at his study desk, he had 
lightly suggested that Stanley should hand him a 
book that was lying on the radiator top near the 
window. Stanley was seated in a chair somewhat 
nearer the radiator than Dick, but there was no 
sound of movement and after a second Dick looked 
around inquiringly. Stanley was still seated and 
there was a quizzical grin on his countenance. 
After a somewhat blank stare, Dick arose and got 
the book. As he sat down again he said sarcas- 
tically: ‘‘Much obliged, Stan.” 

Stanley chuckled. “Dick, you’ve been sort of 
spoiled, haven’t you?” he said. 

‘ ‘ Spoiled ? What do you mean ? Just because I 
asked you ” 

“You’re one of those fellows who expect others 
to do things for ’em, and get away with it. 
Wish I knew the secret. But it isn’t good for you, 
Dick. You must learn to run your own errands, 
and whitewash your own fences. Any time you 
break a leg. I’ll fetch and carry for you, but while 


‘ ^ BUSTY 


57 


you’re able to get about — nothing doing! In fact, 
seeing that I’m an older resident of this place, I’m 
not certain you shouldn’t be fagging for me! ” 

^‘Oh, go to the dickens,” muttered Dick. ^^You 
make me tired. ’ ’ Then, after a moment, he added : 
‘ ^ Maybe that was cheeky, Stan. I ’m sorry. Guess 
I’ve had it too easy.” 

‘^That’s all right, son. It’s just as well to 
know where we stand, though. Any other little 
thing I can do for you?” 

‘‘Yes, you can close your silly mouth,” was the 
answer. 

By Saturday Dick felt almost like an old boy. 
His courses promised to be only mildly difficult, 
and the instructors seemed a very decent lot, 
notably “Old Addicks” who knew so much of 
ancient languages that he looked like an elderly, 
benignant Greek philosopher, and Mr. McCreedy, 
who taught mathematics. Through Stanley he met 
a great many of the fellows, and he picked up a few 
acquaintances himself. Of these latter, one was 
“Busty” Crozier. He was a Fourth Class fellow 
who preferred to live in the town, and occupied 
two comfortable rooms in a house on Maple Street, 
just below the school. He was a jolly, light-hearted 
chap with a perpetual smile and hair of that pe- 
culiar shade of red that we associate with rusted 


58 QUARTEE-BACK BATES 

iron : hence his nick-name. Dick met him in class- 
room. ‘‘Rusty^’ borrowed Dick’s fountain pen 
for a minute. After class they came together 
in the corridor and walked a little way along The 
Front. That began it. When Dick asked Stanley 
if he knew Crozier, Stanley nodded. 

Everyone knows Rusty,” he said. ‘‘But if 
you want to tread the straight and narrow, Dick, 
keep away from him.” 

“What do you mean? Isn’t he — all right?” 

“Oh, yes, Rusty’s aU right. That is, there’s 
nothing vicious about him. In fact, he’s a very 
decent, very clean fellow. But he’s gifted with a 
talent for discovering trouble. And a talent for 
squirming out of it! If he wasn’t he’d have left 
Parkinson long ago. I’d say that Rusty’s trouble 
was an over-developed sense of humor.” 

“I rather liked him,” mused Dick. 

“You would. So do I. Everyone likes Rusty* 
But wise guys say him nay when he suggests one 
of his innocent amusements. It was Rusty who 
closed traffic on Main Street in the middle of a 
busy Saturday one day last year, only faculty 
doesn’t know it.” 

“Did what?” asked Dick. 

“He borrowed two carpenter’s horses and a 
sign and placed ’em across the middle of Main 


^‘EUSTY^’ 


59 


Street, near School, about one o’clock one day 
last spring. He found the sign somewhere, I don’t 
know where. It said ‘ Street Closed by Order of 
Selectmen.’ Then he went over and stood in 
Y^iley’s drug store and watched the fun. It was 
almost an hour before they discovered that it was 
a hoax. The pap-er was full of it, and the select- 
men made an awful rumpus, but everyone else 
thought it was a pretty good joke.” 

‘‘And he wasn’t found out?” 

“No. At least a score of people must have 
seen him set the barrier up, but no two of them 
agreed as to what he looked like. Some said he 
was a labourer in blue overalls, and others said 
he was a tall man with whiskers, and so on. That’s 
just one of Eusty’s innocent ways of amusing him- 
self.” 

“But doesn’t he ever get caught?” asked Dick 
incredulously. 

“Oh, yes, heaps of times, but he always manages 
somehow to show that he was actuated by good in- 
tentions or that circumstances worked against him. 
Like the time he dropped the parlour match heads 
all over the floor in Eoom G and every time any 
one put his foot down, one of the things went pop! 
He showed Jud the hole in his pocket where the 
things had fallen out. If it hadn’t been for the* 


60 QUAHTER-BACK BATES 

hole, he claimed, it wouldn’t have happened. He 
got off with a month’s probation, I think.” 

Dick laughed. ^‘He must be a cut-up! Well, 
I’ll keep away from him when he feels frolic- 
some. ’ ’ 

^‘Trouble is,” said Stanley, ‘^you never can 
tell when Busty is going to spring something.” 
He smiled and then chuckled. Three or four of 
us walked over to Princeville two years ago to the 
circus. It was one of those little one-ring affairs, 
you know, with a mangey camel, and a moth-eaten 
lion and a troop of trained dogs. It was rather 
fun. Rusty was one of us, and he was as quiet as 
a mouse until near the end. Then he began flick- 
ing peanuts at the ring master. We tried to stop 
him, but he wouldn’t quit. Every time the ring 
master turned his back. Rusty would land a peanut 
on him, and the crowd got to laughing and gave it 
away. So they hustled us all out, and we didn’t 
see the performing dogs. Has he asked you over 
to his room at Spooner’s?” 

‘‘Yes,” said Dick, suspiciously. “Is there any 
trick in that?” 

“Oh, no,” answered Stanley, smilingly. “He 
has very jolly quarters. If you like we ’ll go over 
together some evening.” 

“All right. Only I don’t like that catfish grin 


‘‘EUSTY’’ 


61 


of yours. I suppose lie lias a trick staircase that 
folds up and lets you down in a heap or some- 
thingT’ 

‘‘No. Eusty’s fun is pretty harmless. We’ll 
wander over there tonight if you like.” 

“Well, hut I’m going to keep my eyes open just 
the same,” Dick laughed “You’re too anxious 
to go along, Stan!” 

That afternoon Dick found a letter in the rack 
downstairs. It bore the Warne postmark, and was 
addressed to him in a very dashing hand: “ Eich- 
ard C. Bates, Esq., Sohmer Hall, Parkinson 
School, Town.” Wondering, Dick opened the 
envelope. Within was an oblong of pasteboard 
punched with three holes of varying sizes. In one 
of the holes was an ancient looking cent so badly 
corroded that it was hard to read the lettering. 
Dick’s thoughts naturally fell on Eusty Crozier, 
although what the joke meant, he couldn’t make 
out. But he smiled and dropped the coin in a 
waistcoat pocket, and presently forgot about it. 
Eetuming from football practice at five, however, 
he found another missive awaiting him. The 
envelope was different and the writing different, 
but there was just such another coin-card with- 
in and in the card was a second penny. This one 
was bright enough, but it had been badly bent. 


62 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

Dick, puzzled, added the second coin to the first, 
resolved to find out the meaning of the prank that 
evenings 

He and Stanley went across the campus and 
down Maple Street about eight. Spooner’s was a 
large, square house standing almost flush with the 
sidewalk. Like many of the residences there- 
abouts, its upper floors were tenanted by students 
unable or disinclined to secure rooms on the cam- 
pus. Stanley pulled open a squeaky screen door 
and entered. At the foot of the staircase, he 
paused and lifted his voice. 

‘‘Oh, Rusty!” he shouted. “Rusty-y-y!” 

Somewhere above a door opened and a voice 
answered. 

‘ ‘ A-a-ay ! Come up ! ” 

Stanley led the way again up two flights, and 
then to a door at the front of the house. Oddly 
enough, it was closed tightly, which fact, since it 
had been opened a moment before, struck Dick 
as peculiar. Stanley knocked and a voice called 
“Come in!” Somehow Stanley managed to get 
behind Dick, and it was Dick who turned the knob 
and pressed the door inward. The next instant he 
was precipitated into a glare of light. The knob 
had jerked itself out of his hand, and something— 
he supposed at the moment the something to have 


‘‘RJJSTY^’ 


63 


been Stanley — had banged against his heels and 
pushed him violently into the room. He stopped 
to find himself asprawl over an armchair with a 
placard bearing the word WELCOME a few; 
inches from his nose, 

‘‘Good evening/’ said Eusty amiably from 
across the room. 

“Hello,” gasped Dick. Then he looked back 
at the door for Stanley. Stanley was not there. 
But at the instant the door opened again and 
Stanley appeared. He was grinning broadly, but 
Dick was too much interested in the door to see 
it. The door was not opening like any door Dick 
had ever seen. In the first place it was turning 
on pivots at top and bottom, half of it coming in, 
and half of it going out, so that the aperture for 
entrance was scarcely wider than Stanley. In the 
second place, Stanley was holding hard to that 
knob and being fairly dragged through, for above 
the sill and below the lintel was a coiled spring 
that, so soon as the knob was turned, swung the 
door swiftly on its axis from left to right. Dick^ 
stared in surprise. 

“Just a little idea of my own. Bates,” said 
Eusty, coming forward and removing the placard 
from the back of the chair to a place on the wall. 
“Have a chair.” 


64 QUAETEB-BACK BATES 

Dick looked from the proffered chair to Rusty 
and then to Stanley and shook his head. ‘‘No, 
thanks, ’ ’ he muttered. “ I ’ll stand ! ’ ’ 

However, Stanley assured him on oath that the 
chair was quite safe and wouldn’t double up under 
him and he consented to try it, although not with- 
out anxiety. But he was up again a moment 
later, demanding to be shown the working of the 
amazing door. 

“Quite simple,” laughed Rusty. “First I 
unlock it, thus. Then I stand clear of it. Then the 
unsuspecting visitor outside turns the knob. ’ ’ He 
turned it from the inside, stepping quickly out 
of the way, and the door leaped open, swung once 
around and stopped as the latch snapped again 
into its socket. “That’s all there is to it. I place 
the cushioned chair here to receive the caller and 
place the ‘Welcome’ sign where he will be sure to 
see it. Most all the fellows know about it now, 
though, and I have to rely on newcomers like you. 
Bates, for a bit of fun.” He locked the portal 
again. 

“Well, but — ^but suppose you want to go out!” 
asked Dick. 

“I go out the other door.” Rusty indicated 
the adjoining bedroom. “In fact,” he added with 
a twinkle, “I seldom use this entrance myself. I 


“ RUSTY 65 

keep it locked until I am expecting a distinguished 
visitor. ’ ’ 

‘‘Still, I don’t see how you knew I was with 
Stan,” Dick objected. 

“You’ll have to ask Stan about that,” laughed 
Rusty. 

“I told him,” explained Stanley, grinning. 

“Oh! Then that’s why you were so anxious to 
come with me.” Dick fixed his room-mate with an 
accusing eye. “All right. I’ll get even with you, 
old son, if it takes my last— if it takes my last two 
pennies !” He looked quickly at Rusty, but there 
was nothing to show that the latter had grasped the 
allusion. “Maybe,” continued Dick, “you’d like 
to see them.” He fished the two cents from his 
pocket and held them forth. Stanley viewed them 
interestedly and so did Rusty. 

“What’s the idea?” asked the former. “Do 
you mean that you ’re down to those ? Stony broke, 
Dick?” 

Rusty’s innocent, uncomprehending expression 
remained- and Dick began to think his suspicions 
wrong. “No, those are just-just pocket-pieces,” 
he answered flatly. 

“Wouldn’t be very useful to you in a pinch,” 
observed his host. “Well, find seats, fellows. 
Hope you didn’t mind the reception. Bates. But 


66 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

I guess you didn’t. You look like a fellow wko 
can take a joke.” 

^'No, I didn’t mind,” said Dick. Guess I was 
too surprised to mind!” He looked about the 
room. ^^This is pretty comfortable, Crozier.” 

^‘Not bad. I’ve had these rooms ever since my 
first year. Got two nice windows in front and one 
on the side there, and two more in the bedroom. 
Mrs. Spooner is a corking old soul, and doesn’t 
mind a bit of noise now and then.” 

Stanley chuckled, and when Dick looked across 
inquiringly he explained. ‘‘Mrs. Spooner’s as 
deaf as a haddock, Dick. If she wasn’t she 
couldn’t live in the same house with Rusty!” 

“Run away! I’m not noisy. Sometimes my 
guests are, but I do all I can to restrain them. 
Haynes gives me more trouble than Mrs. S. He 
has the room under this on the floor below, Bates, 
and insists on studying at the times I feel play- 
ful. There are four other fellows in the house and 
you couldn’t pry any of us loose. You chaps can 
have your dormitory rooms. I don’t want them, 
thanks.” 

“Do you take your meals here?” Dick inquired. 

“No, Mrs. S. doesn’t give meals. She used to, 
but that was before my time. I eat around. 
Usually at ‘The Eggery.’ Sometimes at Thach- 


“RUSTY^^ 67, 

er’s. Stan says you’re out for the football team. 
Going to make it all right?” 

don’t know, I’m sure. I’m going to try to. 
Do you — are you ” 

‘‘No, I’m not athletic. Bates. My favourite 
sport is mumblepeg. Besides, my studies prevent. 
Oh, shut up, Stan! Let me make a good im- 
pression on Bates, can’t you? What time is it, 
anyway? Look here, let’s go to the movies. What 
do you say?” 

“Not for me,” answered Stanley. “I’ve got 
to beat it back and do some work tonight. Be- 
sides, the last time ” 

“Oh, that!” laughed Rusty. “Wasn’t it silly? 
Such a fuss about so little, eh?” 

“Oh, yes, very little!” Stanley turned to Dick. 
“He and Blash stretched a rope across the aisle 
and tied it to the arms of the seats ahead of them. 
Being fairly dark, some confusion ensued!” 

“During which, if I remember correctly, you 
and Joe and Blash sneaked out. Just shows what 
a guilty conscience will do. Bates. I remained, 
secure in my innocence, and saw the show 
through.” 

“Yes, you rotter!” said Stan indignantly. 
“You put the blame on us, and every time I 
go there now the doorman looks at me unkindly.” 


68 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

you were out of the way and I wasn’t. 
Besides, I wanted to see the rest of the picture.” 

Rusty, if you got your deserts,” said Stan- 
ley, feelingly, you’d he shot at sunrise. Well, 
I must heat it. Coming along, Dick?” 

Dick went, in spite of Rusty’s pleas. They left 
hy way of the bedroom and Dick watched the hall 
door very, very carefully. It proved to he a per- 
fectly normal door, however. Rusty told Dick to 
call again and held conversation with them over 
the hanister until they had reached the street door, 
while from a second floor room came howls of 
^ ^ Shut up. Rusty I Shu-u-ut u-u-up ! ’ ’ 

‘‘It’s only Haynes,” called Rusty reassuringly. 
“Don’t mind the poor fish. Come again, fellows ! 
Good night!” 

In the letter rack in Sohmer was another enve- 
lope addressed to Dick and within was a third 
penny. 


CHAPTER VI 


DICK MAKES AK ENEMY 

That was on Friday. The next afternoon Parkin- 
son played her first game, with Mapleton School. 
Mapleton had started the Parkinson schedule for 
several years, invariably providing just the 
amount of fight desired, and today was no excep- 
tion to the established rule. Four ten-minute 
periods were played and Parkinson managed to 
run up seventeen points. It was a slow and unin- 
teresting game from the spectators^ standpoint, 
and the afternoon was scorchingly hot for the last 
of September. ‘‘Babe’’ Upton, who weighed well 
over a hundred and eighty and played centre, 
affirmed afterwards that he could feel himself melt- 
ing away like a candle. Indeed, although none of 
the team was allowed to remain in the contest for 
more than two periods, there were many who 
found it hard medicine. Dick, who as a member 
of the squad was supposed to look on and learn, 
watched the game from the Parkinson bench and 
sweltered uncomplainingly for the better part of 
an hour and a half. Naturally enough, his interest 
69 


70 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

concentrated itself on Stone and, later, Cardin, the 
quarter-backs. He secretly thought that Cardin, 
with sufficient instruction, could be developed into 
a better quarter than Gus Stone, for Cardin was a 
quick, gingery youngster who drove his team hard, 
while Stone, although more experienced and 
heavier, had a tendency to go to sleep on his feet, 
and the plays always dragged just when they 
should have been run off at top speed. A third 
candidate, a thin ramrod of a youth, was tried out 
for a few minutes just at the end of the game. A 
neighbour told Dick that his name was Pryne, add- 
ing facetiously that it ought to be Prune. Pryne 
had scant opportunity to show whether he deserved 
the latter appellation, however. 

When Mapleton had gone away and the stands 
had practically emptied, the members of the squad 
who had taken no part in the game were called out 
for an hour’s work. Coach Driscoll did not re- 
main, and the job fell to Harry Warden, who be- 
cause of a weak ankle had been out of his place 
at left half on the team that afternoon. By sorjie 
chance the running of one of the three makeshift 
teams fell to Dick, and, with a few of the candi- 
dates who had failed to get placed on the squads 
following, he started off. The simplest sort of 
plays were being taught, straight line bucks and 


DICK MAKES AN ENEMY 71 

runs, outside ends and a rudimentary set of signals 
was used. At first the men moved hardly faster 
than a walk. Then, having presumably learned 
their duties, they were allowed to trot. It seemed 
to Dick that he was burdened with the stupidest 
aggregation on the field, and one of the backs, a 
shock-haired, long-nosed youth named Halden, out- 
did them all. No matter how many times Halden 
was walked through a play, the instant speed was 
called for he forgot all he had learned. Finally, 
after he had ‘‘gummed up^’ a simple two-man 
attack on left guard for the third time, Dick’s 
exasperation found voice. 

“You! Eight half! What good do you think 
you are? You’re supposed to go in there and 
clear out that hole, and instead of that you let the 
runner ahead of you and then walk all over his 
heels! Can’t you understand that play? Don’t 
you get the signal, or what’s your trouble?” 

“I thought full-back went ahead,” grumbled 
Halden. 

“You thought! Great guns, haven’t you been 
through that play often enough? Come on, now! 
Try to get it right this time.” 

Halden did get it right, but the effort so un- 
nerved him that he stopped as soon as he was clear 
of the line and the full-back ran into him. 


72 


QUARTEE-BACK BATES 

‘‘All right as far you got,’’ commented Dick, 
bitterly, “but there’s supposed to be an opposing 
line in front of you, Halden. Keep on going! 
Here, we’ll switch that play to the other side and 
you watch how it’s done.” This time the right 
half cleared the hole on his own side and the full- 
back, ball hugged to his stomach, plunged after 
him. “Get it?” asked Dick of Halden. 

“Sure,” growled the left half. 

“Well, try it then. All right! 7 — 15 — 18 — ^ 
7 ” 

Halden started off much too soon, beating the 
signal by a yard, and a trickle of laughter arose 
from the squad. ‘ ‘ Fine ! ’ ’ called Dick. ‘ ‘ That’s 
great work, Halden! But it’s usual to wait until 
the ball is snapped ! Here, you drop out and let 
someone else in here for a while.” 

“You’re not running this,” objected Halden, 
angrily. 

“I’m running this squad, and I don’t intend to 
waste everyone ’s time trying to drive a simple idea 
into that concrete dome of yours ! ’ ’ Dick turned 
to the followers. ‘ ‘ Any of you fellows play half ? ’ ’ 
he asked. 

A volunteer stepped forward and Halden, mut- 
tering and angry, dropped back. It was at that 
instant that Dick noted the presence of Warden. 


73 


DICK MAKES AN ENEMY 

If he had known the Varsity man was there, he 
might have been slower in assuming authority, 
but, having begun, he kept on with it. ^^All right. 
Left half, please. Now then, fellows, let’s get go- 
ing again. Mind the signals!” 

Of course when he called on right half to take 
the baU on a run outside, tackle one or two made 
the mistake of supposing it was the unsuccessful 
play that was called for and acted accordingly, but 
that was to be expected. told you to mind 
signals,” scolded Dick. ‘‘Don’t try to guess 
what’s coming. Listen to me!” When the goal 
line was reached and they swung around for a trip 
back up the field, Dick saw that Warden had taken 
himself off again and was somewhat relieved. He 
had more than half expected a calling-down for 
sending Halden out. Toward the end of the 
signal drill the squad worked fairly well, although 
Dick persisted in the belief that he had fallen 
heir to the most stupid bunch on the field. When 
dismissal came they trooped over to the benches 
to get sweaters, and as Dick pulled his on he heard 
Halden ’s voice at his shoulder. 

“Next time you bawl me out like that I’ll hand 
you a punch on the nose,” growled the half-back 
candidate. “You wouldn’t have done it if that 
big fellow hadn’t been there!” 


74 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

Bick^s head emerged from his sweater and he 
viewed Halden coldly. ‘^Son,’’ he said in as low 
a voice as the other’s, you try any tricks 
with me I’ll hurt you badly. And any time I’m 
playing quarter where you are and you don’t show 
any more intelligence than you did today, you’re 
going to get roasted. You make the most of that, 
Halden!” 

‘‘You try it !” hissed the other like a villain in a 
melodrama. “You think you’re somebody, don’t 
you? Well, you’ll get yours if you try to make a 
goat of me!” 

“Oh, piffle!” said Dick disgustedly, elbowing 
away. “Keep your temper if you want to play 
football.” 

“Yes, and I’ll be playing football when you’re 
kicked off,” answered the other. 

Dick shrugged and went his way, Halden follow- 
ing gloweringly to the gymnasium. In the locker ' 
room, Harry Warden crossed over and seated him- 
self beside Dick on the bench in front of his locker. 
“Say, Bates,” he began, “you’ve done that sort 
of thing before, haven’t you?” 

“What sort of thing?” asked Dick, a twinkle 
in his eye. “Fired a fellow off the squad without 
authority?” 

Warden’s sober countenance showed the faintest 


DICK MAKES AN ENEMY 


75 


ghost of a smile: or perhaps it was only the eyes 
that smiled. meant run off signals. I thought 
you showed a good deal of familiarity with the 
job.’’ 

‘ ‘ Why, yes, I ’ve done it before, quite often. I ’ve 
played three years, two of them on my high school 
team. We all had to take hold and coach at times. 
Warden. Our real coach couldn’t give us a great 
deal of time. He worked in a hardware store, 
you see, and his boss didn’t care a great deal about 
football.” Dick smiled. ^‘We couldn’t pay him 
anything and he couldn’t afford to lose his job.” 

‘‘What school was that?” asked Warden. 

“Leonardville, Pennsylvania, High.” Dick 
watched to see if the information aroused recol- 
lection. It didn’t. Evidently Fame didn’t travel 
into New England. 

“You played quarter-back?” Dick nodded. 
“Hm.” Warden rubbed a cheek reflectively. 
“What’s your weight?” 

“One-fifty-one today. 

“You look lighter. That’s your build, though. 
I liked the way you handled that bunch of dubs 
today. Bates. Ever done much punting?” 

“Not very much. We had a full-back who was 
pretty nifty at that. I’ve done some drop-kicking, 
though.” 


76 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

‘^Can you do two out of three from the thirty 
yards ? ’ ’ 

^‘Yes, if the angle isn’t too wide.” 

Warden got up. ‘‘I wouldn’t be surprised, 
Bates, if Driscoll took you onto the first squad 
some day soon. Keep on the way you’re going, 
will you? Let’s see if we can’t prove him wrong. 
You know, Driscoll insists that you can’t make a 
prep-school player from a high-school fellow. He 
says they always know too much. Think it’s that 
way with you?” 

Dick looked haughty for an instant. Then he 
smiled. ^‘Why, I don’t believe so, Warden. 
That’s a funny idea of his, though.” 

‘‘He says he’s never had much success with 
high-school fellows,” said Warden thoughtfully. 
‘ ‘ I know what he means, too. Maybe you wouldn’t 
notice it. Bates, but it’s a fact that most chaps 
who show up here from high schools have mighty 
good opinions of themselves. Half the time 
they’ve been captains of their teams, you know, 
or crack half-backs or quarters, and they don’t 
take kindly to new ways and hate being told any- 
thing. I know two or three cases myself. By the 
way, you weren’t captain, were you?” 

“No.” Dick didn’t explain that he might have 
been had he remained in Leonardville ! “I would 


DICK MAKES AN ENEMY 


77 


say, though, that it depended on the fellow. War- 
den, and not on the fact that he’d been playing 
with some high-school team.” 

^‘Yes, maybe. Well, see you again. Bates. 
And, by the way, you did just right to drop that 
chap this afternoon. So long.” 

When he had gone Dick sat and nursed one 
bare foot for several minutes and wondered what 
Warden’s interest portended. He felt rather 
cheered-up when he finally went on with dressing 
himself. Warden’s remark about Coach Corliss 
and the first squad sounded good to him. 


CHAPTER VII 


PAGING MB. BLASHINGTON 

There were two more pennies awaiting him on 
the letter rack, each enclosed in a business en- 
velope. One envelope bore the inscription, ‘‘After 
Five Days Return to The Wame Gas and Electric 
Company, Warne, Mass.,’’ and the other purported 
to have come from the “Stevens Machine Com- 
pany.” But the handwriting was suspiciously 
the same on each envelope. Upstairs, Dick handed 
the two to Stanley and told about receiving the 
previous three pennies. For a moment Stanley 
seemed as puzzled as Dick. Then, however, a 
smile spread itself slowly over his face and he 
chuckled. 

“Anybody owe you any money!” he asked. 

“Not that I know ” began Dick. Then 

comprehension dawned. “By Jove! You mean 
Blashington!” 

“Of course. It’s just the crazy sort of thing 
he’d do. He owed you twelve and a half cents, 
didn’t he! Well, he’s paying his debt. But 
where he manages to get hold of all these bum 

78 


PAGING ME. BLASHINGTON 


79 


pennies is beyond me. There isn T one of the five, 
Dick, that you could pass on anyone but a blind 
man ! ^ ^ 

‘^Well, it’s putting him to a lot of trouble, I’ll 
bet,” said Dick grimly. ^^If he can stand it I can. 
Funny, though, I didn’t think of him. I thought 
yesterday it was Eusty Crozier. That’s why I 
showed them to you last night. Crazy ape!” 

^^Hand me a scrap of paper and a pencil, Dick. 
Anything will do. Thanks.” Stanley wrote a few 
lines, folded the paper many times and handed it 
back. Just for fun, Dick, when Blash has made 
his last payment, you read what I’ve written 
there,” he directed. 

‘‘Gee, you’re as bad as he is for silly jokes,” 
grumbled Dick. But he opened the drawer in his 
desk and dropped the paper inside. “And that 
reminds me that I ran across another crazy idiot 
this afternoon. His name’s Halden. He wanted 
to punch me because I called him down for balling 
up a play in signal driU. Know him?” 

“Sanford Halden?” Stanley nodded. “Know 
who he is, yes. He’s a sort of a nut. Goes in for 
everything and never lands. Used to think he 
was a pole-vaulter. Then he tried the sprints and 
—well, I guess he’s had a go at about everything. 
The only thing I ever heard of his doing half-way 


80 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

well is basket-ball. I believe he’s fairly good at 
that. Usually gets fired, though, for scrapping. 
They call him Sandy. He’s a Fourth Class 
fellow.” 

^Hs he? I thought he was probably Third. He 
must be older than he looks then.” 

guess he’s only seventeen,” said Stanley. 
‘^He’s smart at studies. He’s one of the kind who 
always knows what he’s going to be asked and 
always has the answer. It’s a gift, Dick.” And 
Stanley sighed. 

‘^He’s going to have another gift,” laughed 
Dick, ‘4f he gets fresh with me ! Talk about your 
stupids ! He was the limit today. Had to hold up 
the whole squad while he was being taught the 
simplest play there is. Then he had the cheek to 
threaten to punch my nose! I hope they let me 
run a squad tomorrow and put him on it ! ” 

‘‘Calm yourself, Dicky. Halden’s a joke. 
Don’t let him bother you. Let’s go to supper. 
Don’t forget this is movie night.” 

Gomg to’ the movies was a regular Saturday 
night event at Parkinson and usually a good half 
of the school was to be found at one or the other 
of the two small theatres in the village. Tonight, 
perhaps because of the heat, the stream that 
trickled across the campus to the head of School 


PAGING MR. BLASHINGTON 81 

Street as soon as supper was finished was smaller 
than usual, and Dick and Stanley, Blash and his 
room-mate, Sid Crocker, commented on the fact 
as they started off. 

‘^The trouble is,’’ hazarded Sid, ^‘they don’t 
have the right sort of pictures. Gee, they haven’t 
shown Bill Hart since ’way last winter!” 

‘‘How do you know? They may have had a 
Hart picture while we’ve been away. What I 
kick about is this educational stuff. I suppose it 
doesn’t cost them much, but I’m dead tired of 
Niagara Falls from an airplane and gatheriag 
rubber in Brazil— or wherever they do gather it — • 
and all that trash.” Blash shook his head dis- 
gustedly. “Hope they’ll have a real, corking-good 
serial this year. Nothing like a good serial to 
keep a fellow young and zippy.” 

“They give us too much society drool,” said 
Stanley. “Pictures about Lord Blitherington los- 
ing the old castle and his string of hunters and 
going to America and stumbling on a gold mine 
and going home again and swatting the villain 
and rescuing the heroine just as she’s going to 
marry the old guy with the mutton-chop whiskers. 
I wish they’d let her marry him sometimes. Guess 
it would serve her right!” 

“Well, they’ve got a pretty good bill at the Tern- 


82 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

pie tonight,’^ said Dick. ‘‘That Western picture 

looks great. 

“Yes, but who’s this guy that’s in it?” de- 
manded Sid suspiciously. “Who ever heard of 
him before?” 

“Everyone but you, you old grouch,” Blash 
assured him sweetly. “Come on or we’ll have to 
stand up until the first picture’s over.” 

Adams Street was quite a busy scene on a Satur- 
day night, for the stores kept open and the resi- 
dents of a half-dozen neighbouring hamlets came 
in to do the week’s buying. While they were mak- 
ing their way through the leisurely throng Sid 
had a fleeting vision of Rusty Crozier, or thought 
he had. Stanley said it was quite likely, as Rusty 
was a great movie “fan.” Then they were part 
of the jam in the entrance of the Scenic Temple, 
and Blash, because of superior height, had been 
commissioned to fight his way to the ticket win- 
dow. Followed a scurry down a darkened aisle 
and the eventual discovery of three seats together 
and one in the row behind. Blash volunteered for 
the single one and since it was directly behind the 
seat occupied by Dick the latter subsequently 
shared with Stanley the benefit of Blash ’s obser- 
vations and criticisms. A news weekly was on the 
screen when they arrived, and Blash had little to 


PAGING ME. BLASHINGTON 83 

say of the pictured events, but when Episode 17 
of ‘‘The Face in the Moonlight” began he became 
most voluble. Stanley kept telling him to shut up, 
but Dick, who didn’t find the serial very enthrall- 
ing, rather enjoyed Slash’s absurdities. A comedy 
followed and then came a Western melodrama 
with a hero who took remarkable chances on horse- 
back and a heroine who had a perfect passion for 
getting into trouble. There were numerous pic- 
turesque cow-boys and Mexicans and a villain 
who, so Blash declared delightedly, was the ‘ ‘ dead 
spit” of Mr. Hale, the instructor in physics. Just 
when the picture was at its most absorbing stage 
the piano ceased abruptly and after an instant of 
startling silence a voice was heard. 

“Is Mr. Wallace Blashington in the house? 
Mr. Wallace Blashington is wanted at the tele- 
phone ! ’ ’ 

The piano began again and the usher, a dimly 
seen figure down front, retreated up the aisle like 
a shadow. The three boys in front turned to Blash 
excitedly. 

“What is it, Blash?” asked Sid. 

^^Better go see,” counselled Stanley. 

“Are you sure he said me?” whispered Blash. 
He sounded rather nervous. 

“Of course he did! Beat it, you idiot! Come 


84 QUAItTEK^BACK BATES 

back if you can. Ask the man next you to hold 
your seat, Blash.’’ 

‘‘We-ell — but I don’t see — ^ ” muttered Blash. 
Then he got up, dropped his cap, groped for it and 
found it and pushed his way past a long line of 
feet, stepping on most of them. At the back of 
the theatre an usher conducted him to the 
ticket booth and he picked up the telephone re- 
ceiver. 

‘‘Hello!” he said. “Hello! This is Blashing- 
ton!” 

“Hello! Is that you, Mr. Blashington!” asked 
a faint voice from what seemed hundreds of miles 
away. 

“Yes. Who is talking?” 

“ Mr. W allace Blashington ? ” -v 

“Yes! Who ” 

“Of Parkinson School?” 

“Yes! What— who — — ” 

■ “Hold the line, please. Baltimore is calling.” 

Then followed silence. Blash wondered. He 
tried to think of someone he knew in Baltimore, 
but couldn’t. He felt decidedly nervous without 
any good reason that he knew of. Through the 
glass window he saw the doorman watching him 
interestedly. Beside him the girl who sold tickets 
pretended deep absorption in a magazine and 


85 


PAGING MR. BLASHINGTON 

chewed her gum rhythmically, but Blash knew 
that she was finding the suspense almost as trying 
as he was. After what seemed to him many min- 
utes a voice came to him. It might have been a 
new voice, but it sounded to Blash much like that 
of the first speaker. 

*^That you, Wallace?’^ 

‘‘Yes! Who are you?’’ 

“This is Uncle John.” 

“Uncle John, in Baltimore.” 

“Unc — Say, you’ve got the wrong party, I 
guess! Who do you want? ” 

“Isn’t this Wallace?” 

“This is Wallace Blashington ! ” Blash was 
getting peevish. “I haven’t any Uncle John in 
Baltimore or anywhere else !” The ticket girl snig- 
gered and Blash felt his face getting red. “I say 
I haven’t ” 

“Yes, Wallace? I can’t hear you very well. 
I’ve just had word from Dick, Wallace, and ” 

“Dick who? I say Dick roared Blash. 

“Yes, Wallace, I’m sure you do. Well, this is 
what he says. I’ll read it to you. ‘Tell 

Blash ’ He calls you Blash. ‘Tell Blash he 

needn’t bother ” 


“Needn’t what?^^ 


86 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

‘‘Needn’t bother ! ‘Tell Blash be needn’t bother 

to send the other ’ Are you there, Wallace? 

Did you get that?” 

“Yes! But who is talking? What is — ^Look 
here, I don’t understand ” 

“Yes, Wallace, I’ll speak more distinctly. 
— ‘Not to bother to send the other seven and a 
half cents!’ ” 

“What cents? Say, look here! Who is Dick? 
Dick who ? What ’ ’ 

“Dick Bates,” answered the ghostly voice. 

Blash stared for an instant at the instrument. 

Then he said: “You — you ” in an oddly 

choked voice, banged the receiver back on the hook 
and bolted through the door. He was aware that 
the ticket girl was giggling and that the doorman 
eyed him amusedly as he hurried into the theatre 
again and he wondered if they were parties to the 
hoax. In the darkness at the back of the house 
he paused and fanned himself with his cap, and 
as he did so he chuckled. 

“Not bad,” he whispered to himself. “Not 
a-tall bad!” 

Then he made his way down the aisle, located 
his seat after much difficulty and crawled back to 
it over many legs and feet. Three concerned faces 
turned sympathetically. 


PAGING MR. BLASHINGTON 87 

‘‘No bad news, I bopeP’ said Stanley in an 
aiLsions whisper. 

“Anything important?’’ asked Sid. 

Dick looked but said nothing, and Blash, his 
lips close to Dick’s ear, hissed threateningly: 
“One word from you. Bates! Just one word!^^ 

Instead of speaking, however, Dick turned his 
face to the screen again, his shoulders shaking. 
Further .along, where Sid sat, there was a faint 
choking sound. Then Stanley said: '*Oh, hoy!** 
and fell up against Dick. Again that queer chok- 
ing sound, then a gurgle, followed by a muffled 
explosion of laughter from Dick, and Stanley was 
on his feet, pushing Sid ahead of him, and Dick 
was following weakly on his heels, and a second 
after all three were plunging wildly up the dark- 
ened aisle. 

“Ex-excuse me,” muttered Blash. He clutched 
his cap and wormed his way past a dozen exas- 
perated, protesting members of the audience and 
pursued his friends. He found them in the lobby 
outside. Stanley was leaning against the side of 
the entrance, Sid was draped over a large brass 
rail, and Dick, midway, was regarding them 
from streaming eyes, one hand stretched 
vainly forth for support. The contagion of their 
laughter had involved doorman and ticket girl, 


88 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

while a small group of loiterers beyond were grin- 
ning sympathetically. On this scene appeared 
Blash. Stanley saw him first and raised one arm 
and pointed in warning. Dick looked, gave forth 
a final gasp of laughter and fled on wobbling legs. 
Sid and Stanley followed and Blash brought up the 
rear. 

Down Adams Street in the direction of the rail- 
road station went hares and hound, the hound 
gaming at every stride. Dick took to the street 
early in the race, the sidewalk being much too 
congested for easy progress, and had hair-breadth 
escapes from cars and vehicles. To him the sta- 
tion came into sight like a haven of refuge, and 
there he was run to earth in a dim comer of the 
waiting-room. When Stanley and Sid reached the 
scene, outdistanced by Blash, Dick was lying on a 
bench and Blash was sitting on him in triumph. 

^‘Apologise panted Blash.'^ ^‘Say you’re 
sorry!” 

‘‘I — I r” gurgled Dick. 

‘‘Say it, you lobster!” 

“Tologise!” grunted the under dog. “Sorry 
I-^Oh, gee!” And, Blash arising from his pros- 
trate form, Dick went off again into a paroxysm 
of laughter, while Stanley and Sid sank weakly 
onto the bench and wiped their eyes. 


PAGING MR. BLASHINGTON 89 

'^Who did yon get to do itP’ asked Blash a 
few minutes later when they were making their 
way back to school. ‘‘Who was on the ^phoneP’ 

“Rusty Crozier/’ chuckled Dick. 

“Rusty! And I didn’t recognise his voice! I 
guess, though, he put a pebble under his tongue 
or something.” Blash laughed. “Say, fellows, 
I’d have sworn he was a thousand miles away!” 

“He — he stood away from the ’phone,” Dick ex- 
plained. 

“Oh!” Blash was silent a moment. Then; “I 
suppose you two silly pups were in on it,” he 
accused. 

“I was,” acknowledged Stanley. “Dick and I 
hatched it up at supper. Sid didn’t know until 
you’d gone out to the telephone. Rusty went to 
the theatre first and found out what time the big 
picture was coming on. We passed him on Adams 
Street and I was afraid you’d see him and suspect 
something. But I guess you didn’t.” 

“No, I didn’t see him. Where did he telephone 
from, Stan?” 

“The hotel, right across the street. He said he 
could watch you from there while he talked!” 

“Wait till I get hold of him ! ’ ’ said Blash. Then 
he laughed again. “Well, it was pretty cute, fel- 
lows. The joke was on me that time!” 


CHAPTER Vni 


HAUDEN EEPEATS 

Of course the joke was too good to keep, and two 
days later Plash’s friends — ^and he had a good 
many — developed a disconcerting fashion of greet- 
ing him with; ‘‘Is Blashington in the house T’ 
Plash, however, could take a joke as well as play 
one. Dick had secret doubts as to his right to 
accept credit for the conspiracy, for without Stan- 
ley it could never have been born. Still, like a 
great many other great ideas, it had, in a manner 
of speaking, fashioned itself, and perhaps Dick 
had had as much to do with it as Stanley. 

On the following Monday Dick found himself 
again in charge of one of the squads in practice. 
He had a suspicion that Harry Warden had said 
a good word for him to the coach, for more than 
once he found the latter watching him. With this 
encouragement Dick buckled down and worked 
very hard with the somewhat discouraging ma- 
terial supplied him. Halden was not with him to- 
day, but there was an excellent understudy for him 
in the shape of a chunky youth named Davis. 

90 


HALDEN EEPEATS 


91 


Davis was just as slow as Halden had been, but he 
didn’t gloom or grouch. He was cheerful and 
apologetic and really tried hard, and Dick took a 
good deal of trouble with him and was extremely 
patient. When the squads were called in and the 
scrimmage began Davis insinuated himself be- 
tween Dick and a neighbour on the bench. 

‘^Say, Bates, I’m mighty sorry I was so stupid. 
And it was white of you to let me down easy the 
way you did.” 

‘‘Oh, that’s all right. You tried, and that’s 
more than some of them did. Look here, Davis, 
why don’t you brush up on the signals a bit before 
tomorrow? You didn’t seem to remember them 
very well.” 

“The trouble is that I can’t think quick enough, 
Bates. You say ‘Six! Twelve! Fourteen!’ and I 
know that I’m going to have the ball ” 

“No, you’re not!” laughed Dick. “Not on 
those signals!” 

“Eh? Oh, that’s right! Well, ^Five, twelve, 
fourteen, then. What I mean is, that while I’m 
getting the first number you call the third and 
then the ball is snapped and I haven’t found out 
where I’m going with it!” 

Dick laughed. “Can’t think quick enough, eh? 
You’ll have practice on that then. Look here, 


92 QUABTEE-BACK BATES 

Davis, who told yon you were made fo'r a 

hackr’ 

‘^No one, but you see I sort of wanted to play 
there. You donT think I canT’ 

‘^Oh, I donT want to say that,^^ answered Dick 
kindly, *‘but I do think you’d do better work in 
the line. Seems to me you’d fit in pretty well at 
guard.” 

guess I’m too short,” said Davis sadly. 
Then, brightening: ‘‘But I wouldn’t have to re- 
member so many figures, would J?” he asked. 

“Well, anyway, you’d have another second or 
so to think about them,” chuckled Dick. “Why 
don’t you teU the coach you’d like to try playing 
guard? You are a bit short, but you’ve got weight 
and you look husky. How old are you? Six- 
teen?” 

“Seventeen. I don’t look it, do I? Say, I sup- 
pose you wouldn’t want to speak to Mr. Driscoll, 
would you?” 

“Me? It wouldn’t do any good, my speaking 
to him, Davis. I’m just one of the dubs like the 
rest of you.” 

Davis appeared to doubt that. “I thought — 
Well, you won’t be long. Anyone can see that you 
know the game. Maybe I’d better ask Bob Peters, 
though. I’m sort of scared of Mr. Driscoll.”' 


HALDEN EEPEATS 93 

‘‘All right, Davis, go to it. Neither of them will 
bite yon, I guess. Were you here last yearP’ 

Davis nodded. “And the year before. I’m in 
the Third.” 

“Oh, are you? Well, how; jdoes Mr. Driscoll 
stand with the fellows?” 

“Stand with thepi? Oh, ace-high. Bates,” an- 
swered the other earnestly. “He’s a corker! 
Don’t you like him?” 

“I don’t know him, but it seems to me he’s 
sort of old for the job. And he doesn’t seem 

to ” Dick stopped. “Oh, I don’t know, but 

he acts a bit stand-offish, and football seems so 
much of a business here! I guess I can’t explain 
just what I mean.” 

Evidently he hadn’t, for Davis looked blank. 
“He isn’t though,” he affirmed. “Stand-offish I 
mean. I like him immensely. Most every- 
one does. And he can turn out good teams. 
Bates.” 

“Well, that’s the main thing. I wonder if we 
have punting practice after the scrimmage. Who 
is the skinny chap that was in charge of the punt- 
ers Friday?” 

“Gaines. He’s playing on the further squad 
there. See him? At right half: the feUow with 
the new head-gear. He’s pretty good, too. He 


94 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

played right half last year. I’m no use at punt- 
ing. Guess my leg’s too short.” 

‘‘That can’t be my trouble,” laughed Dick. 

“Oh, you! I thought you were mighty good 
at it,” said Davis approvingly. “I wish I could 
do half as well as you did.” 

“Well, I can get distance sometimes,” ac- 
knowledged Dick, “but I’m just as likely to kick 
to one corner of the field as the other! Direc- 
tion is the hard thing.” 

“I suppose so, only it’s all hard for me.” After 
a moment of silence he said: “Do you know. Bates, 
half my trouble today was that I was scared. I 
was afraid you’d jump me the way you did Sandy 
Halden the other day.” 

“You weren’t on the squad that day,” answered 
Dick, puzzled. 

‘ ‘ I was trailing behind. When you let Sandy go 
I wanted to take his place, but I was pretty sure 
I’d do even worse! You ought to have heard 
Harry Warden chuckle when you slammed Sandy. ” 

“Did he? Well, I had a lot of cheek to do that, 
because I wasn’t supposed to change the line-up. 
But Halden was too much for me. Has he played 
before this year?” 

“Oh, sure! Sandy tried last year, but they 
dropped him to the Second and he got peeved and 


HAIiDEN EEPEATS 


95 


quit. He’s always trying something. He had the 
golf bug last Fall and thought he was going to 
do wonders. But that petered out, too. Nobody 
would play with him after awhile because he was 
always blaming things on them. If he topped a 
ball he said the other fellow had coughed or moved 
or something. He was playing with Rusty Crozier 
one day: Rusty’s a mighty good player: and he 
was fiddling over his baU on a tee when Rusty 
began swinging his club behind Sandy. Sandy told 
him he should keep still when his adversary was 
playing. Rusty had heard a lot of that and he got 
mad. ‘That so?’ he asked. ‘Let me show you 
something, Sandy.’ He pushed Sandy aside, and 
took a fine long swing at Sandy’s ball and sent it 
into the woods over by the old quarry. ‘There,’ 
he said. ‘Now you go hunt for that, Sandy, and 
when you fiind it try to swaUow it. Maybe you’ll 
choke on it!’ ” 

“Did he find it!” asked Dick amusedly. 

“Don’t think so. Anyway, he hasn’t choked 
yet!” 

On Wednesday Sandy Halden fell to Dick’s 
squad in signal drill. There had been a very 
strenuous twenty minutes with the tackling dummy 
and most of the fellows were still smarting under 
the gentle sarcasms of Billy Goode, and some 


96 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

nursed sore spots as well- Halden Kad failed as 
signally as any of that particular squad to please 
the trainer and had come in for his full share of 
disparagement, and his temper was not of the 
best when signal work began. 

Dick resolved to have no trouble with Halden; 
nor any nonsense either. But Halden started off 
more hopefully today and managed to get through 
the first ten minutes of drill without a mistake. 
He showed Dick, however, that he was still resent- 
ful by scowling on every occasion. Davis had, it 
appeared, found enough courage to ask for his 
transfer to the line, for he was on Dick^s squad 
at left guard. Of course, with none to oppose him 
Davis managed to go through the motions satis- 
factorily enough, but whether he could ever be 
made into a good guard remained to be seen. 
There were five signal squads at work that after- 
noon, and several of them were followed by 
blanketed youths for whom no positions remained. 
Coach Driscoll and, at times, Billy Goode and 
Manager Whipple moved from one squad to an- 
other, the coach, however, devoting most of his 
time to the squad containing the more promising 
of the substitute material — or what seemed such at 
that early period. Captain Peters was at right 
end on the first squad, which held all of last sea- 


HALDEN EEPEATS 


97 


son’s veterans; Fumiss, Harris, Cnpp, Upton, 
Newhall, Wendell, Stone, Gaines, Warden and 
Kirkendall. The weather had turned cold since 
Saturday and there was a gusty north-east wind 
quartering the field, and the more seasoned squads 
were charging up and down the gridiron with 
much vim. 

Dick had his men pretty well warmed up at the 
end of ten minutes and plays were going oft fairly 
smoothly. Then, down near the east goal, came 
the first serious mix-up in the back field. Showers, 
playing full-back, had received the ball from centre 
direct and was to make the wide-tum run outside 
his own left end, the two half-backs going ahead 
as interference. It was a play that had already 
been gone through half a dozen times that after- 
noon. But now for some unknown reason Halden, 
instead of sweeping around to the left in the wake 
of the other half, plunged straight ahead at the 
right guard-tackle hole and emerged triumphantly 
beyond. His triumph ceased, though, when he saw 
Showers and the right half-back trotting along a 
good fifteen yards distant. He pushed through 
toward Dick, who had been engaged with a mythi- 
cal opposing back, scowling darkly. 

‘‘You called for a straight buck!” he challenged. 

“Wrong, Halden,” replied Dick quietly. “I 


98 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

called for a run outside left end and you were 
supposed to be in advance of the ball/’ 

‘^You got your signal wrong, then!” 

don’t think so. Everyone else understood it. 
We’ll try it again presently, Halden. See if you 
can get it right next time.” 

“I got it right that time. I heard the signal, 
and it was ” 

‘ ^ Hire a hall, Sandy, ’ ’ advised a lineman. ‘ ^ You 
were all wrong.” 

“I was not! Bates doesn’t give the signals so 
anyone can get them, anyway. He talks down in 
his boots!” 

Never mind that, Halden. Signals! 9 — 11 — 
You’re out of position, Halden. Gome on, come 
on!” 

‘‘What’s eating you? I’m in position!” 

“You are now, but you weren’t. Signals ! 9 — 
11 ” 

‘ ‘ I haven ’t moved an inch ! ’ ’ 

“Well, do it now then. Move a couple of hun- 
dred inches and get out of here.” Dick looked 
around for someone to take Halden ’s place, but 
there were no followers today. Halden had turned 
very red and now he stepped up to Dick sput- 
tering. 

“You can’t put me off, you smart Aleck ! I was 


HALDEN KEPEATS 


99 


put here by Driscoll and I’ll stay until he tells me 
to go. You think you’i^e the whole thing, don’t 
you? How do you get that way? You make m,e 
sick ! ’ ’ 

Dick made no answer, but he watched Halden 
closely, for the boy was quite evidently in a fight- 
ing mood. It was Davis who came to the rescue 
by slipping out of his place in the line and insert- 
ing himself suddenly between Halden and Dick. 

‘^Sure, he’s got a right to fire you, Sandy, and 
you’re fired! So beat it!” Davis pushed Sandy 
playfully away. Bates is boss, son.” 

‘^He is not! He’s no more on this squad than 
I am! Quit shoving me. Short!” 

‘^Driscoll is looking over here,” warned Show- 
ers uneasily. Let’s get at it, fellows.” 

Eight you are,” responded Davis, jumping 
into his place again. ‘‘Let her go. Bates!” 

“I must have another haE-back,” answered 
Dick, looking about. 

‘ ‘ Oh, forget it, ’ ’ growled Halden. “I’m not go- 
ing off.” 

“I think you are,” replied Dick quietly. He 
left the squad and walked across to whete Billy 
Goode was standing with Manager Whipple. 
“I’m short a half-back,” he announced. “Got 
someone, Mr. Trainer?” 


100 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

the matter? Someone hurt?’’ asked 

Billy. 

^‘No, but I’ve let Halden go. He tried to make 
trouble.” 

BiUy looked at Dick quizzically. ^^You let him 
go! What do you know about that?” He turned 
inquiringly to Stearns Whipple. 

Whipple smiled. Benson’s not working,” he 
said. ‘‘Give him Benson.” 

“Would you?” Billy shot a look of mingled dis- 
approval and respect at Dick. “Well, all right. 
Send Halden to me. Say, what’s your name? 
Gates? Oh, Bates! Well, if I was you Bates, I 
wouldn’t get too uppity.” Billy went off for Ben- 
son and Dick started back toward his waiting 
squad, followed by the amused regard of Whipple. 
Benson trotted out from behind a neighbouring 
group and joined Dick. 

“Billy sent me over,” he said. “I’m a half- 
back.” 

“Go in at left, will you? That’s all, Halden. 
Goode says to report to him.” 

Halden walked up to Dick and spoke very softly. 
“I’ll get you. Bates, if it takes a year!” he said. 
Dick nodded. “Come on, fellows! Signals!” 
Some ten minutes later Coach Driscoll found 
Dick on the bench while the first ^nd second 


HALDEN REPEATS 


101 


sqnads were taking the field for the scrimmage. 
‘‘Whipple tells me you had trouble with Halden/^ 
he sai<L “What was wrong, Bates!’’ 

“He tried to hold up work arguing whether he 
or I was wrong about a signal I gave.” 

“Who was wrongs ” 

“He was, sir, but that didn’t ma;tter. He 
wouldn’t work. Just wanted to chew the rag. So 
I let him go.” 

The coach smiled faintly. “You probably did 
right. Bates, but perhaps in future you’d better 
report the matter to me first. You see some fel- 
lows might question your authority.” The 
coach’s smile grew. “Well, I dare say Halden 
won’t trouble you again.” He nodded and went 
off. Dick looked after him thoughtfully. 

“When he smiles he doesn’t look so pld,” he 
said to himself. 


CHAPTER IX 

LETTERS AND RHYMES 

Dick’s home letters became shorter about this 
time. Life was very busy for him. He wrote the 
news, but he no longer indulged his pen in descrip- 
tions. Sumner White had written twice from 
Leonardville, rather long letters about the High 
School Team, with messages from Dick’s former 
schoolmates and questions about Parkinson foot- 
ball methods. Sumner’s faith in Dick remained 
unimpaired, although the latter had still to an- 
nounce his acceptance on the Parkinson First 
Team. ‘‘We are all expecting big things from 
you, Dick old scout,” wrote Sumner in his latest 
epistle. “Cal Lensen is going to get the Parkin- 
son weekly to exchange with the Argus so he can 
keep tabs on you. So just remember that we’re 
watching you, kid ! Every time you make a touch- 
down for Parkinson the old Argus will have a 
full and graphic account of it in the next number. 
But you’d better write now and then, besides. 
Good luck to you, Dick, and that goes for all the 
‘gang.’ ” 


102 


LETTERS AND RHYMES 


103 


It wasn’t very easy to answer Sumner’s letters 
because answering involved explaining why be 
hadn’t made the team. But Dick did answer them. 
The following Sunday he wrote: ‘‘Got your letter 
Tuesday, but saved it for today because Sunday’s 
about the only day a fellow has time here for 
writing letters. Glad to get the news about every- 
one, but very sorry to hear of the Chester game. 
But you fellows must remember that Chester has 
the edge on you, anyway. Look at their coach 
and all the money they spend and all that ! Be- 
sides, 19-6 isn’t as bad as we licked them two years 
ago. I guess you’ll have to find someone for 
Mercer’s place. Ed tries hard, but he isn’t 
scrappy enough for full-back. You need a fellow 
who isn’t afraid of a stone wall and doesn’t get 
hurt the way Ed did all last year. What about 
Cleary? He’s slow, I know, but you might speed 
him up this year, and he has lots of fight. . . . 
Things here are humming along finely. We played 
Musket Hill yesterday and just walked away with 
them. I told you I didn’t fancy Driscoll, the 
coach, but I like him better, and I guess he does 
know how to get the stuff out of a team. Talking 
about full-backs, I wish you could see our man 
here in action. His name’s Kirkendall and he 
comes from Kentucky. The fellows call him ‘K of 


104 QUAETEK-BACK BATES 

K.’, or just sometimes. Well, lie got 

started yesterday in the third period on our forty 
and Stone (quarter) fed him the ball eight times 
and he landed it on N. H.’s seven yards, and he’d 
have taken it over, too, if Stone hadn’t acted the 
silly goat and switched to Warden. It took War- 
den and Gaines both to get it over then, but they 
did it. Only it seemed too bad not to let K. get the 
credit for the touchdown after smashing all the 
way for fifty yards. Stone doesn’t use his head, 
it seems to me. But he does play a good individual 
game. For all-round work, though, our captain. 
Bob Peters, is the star of the team. He plays 
right end, and he’s a wonder at it. Talk about get- 
ting down under punts! Gee, Sum, he’s under 
the ball from the minute it’s kicked, and he seems 
to always know just where it’s going, too. But 
he’s just as good on defence, and the way he 
handled the opposing tackle yesterday was a mar- 
vel. He’s a dandy captain, too, for all the fellows 
swear by him and would do anything he asked 
them to, I guess. 

“I’m still pegging along on the outside, and 
maybe I won’t make the team this year. There 
are nearly five hundred students here and a lot of 
them are corking football players and a fellow has 
got to be mighty good to even get looked at by the 


LETTEES AND EHYMES 


105 


coacli. So you mustn’t be surprised if you don’t 
see my name in the Leader this year. Of course 
it’s early yet, and I might have luck, but I’m not 
counting on it much. I’m having a good time, 
though. Some of the football chaps are corkers, 
hig fellows, you know. I mean big every way, 
not only in size. They’re big enough in size, 
though, believe me. Sum. Gee, I was certainly sur- 
prised when I saw how the team stacked up. Why, 
Newhall, the right guard, must weigh two hundred 
pounds, and Cupp isn’t any light-weight either. 
Another thing I was surprised at was the way they 
go at football here. Everything’s all arranged 
and cut out six months ahead and it’s the most 
business-like proposition I ever saw. There’s an 
Athletic Committee first, composed of three faculty 
and two students, the football and baseball man- 
agers usually. Then there’s the Head Coach, and 
under him the trainer and his assistant. The com- 
mittee meets every week and then there’s a meet- 
ing in the coach’s room every night but Sunday 
and everything is threshed out and plans made 
for the next day. There doesn’t seem to be a 
moment wasted here. Just at first I thought it 
was too professional or something, but I guess it’s 
just being efficient. It works all right, anyway. 
Well, I must stop and go over to see a fellow in 


106 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

the village with Stan. 1^11 tell you about that fel- 
low some time. He’s a wonder! Remember me 
to, everyone and think over what I wrote about 
Leary. I forgot to tell you the score yesterday. 
It was 27-3. Some game, eh? ” 

Dick might have written a little more truthfully 
that he wasn’t counting at all on making the First 
Team, for at the end of the first fortnight at 
Parkinson it was pretty evident to him that he had 
still some distance to go before he would reach the 
proficiency of fellows like Peters and Kirkendall 
and Warden and several more. The fact that he 
had loomed up as an uncommonly good quarter- 
back at Leonardville High School, and that the 
town papers had hailed him as a star of the first 
magnitude, didn ’t mean much to him here. He saw 
that Parkinson and Leonardville standards were 
widely apart. Why, there were fellows on the 
Second Team here who were better than anything 
Leonardville had ever seen! But Dick took his 
disappointment philosophically. He meant to try 
very hard for a place on the big eleven, no matter 
how humble it might be, and so get in line for next 
year. He wondered sometimes if he wouldn’t have 
shown himself wiser had he gone out for the Sec- 
ond Team instead. There was still time for that, 
for very often candidates released from the First 


LETTEKS AND EHYMES 


107 

Team squad went to the Second and made good, 
but somehow he didnT like the idea of trying for 
the moon and being satisfied with a jack-o ^-lan- 
tern! No, he decided, if he failed at the First he 
would quit for that year and try all the harder next. 
Rumors of a first cut were about on the Monday 
following the Musket Hill game, and Dick prepared 
for retirement to private life. The cut didn’t 
come, however, until Thursday, and when it did 
come it passed Dick by. Why, he couldn’t make 
out. Fellows like Macomber and Swift and Teas- 
dale disappeared and Dick remained. And Ma- 
comber and the others were, in Dick’s estimation, 
much better players than he. But he accepted his 
good fortune and went on trying very hard to make 
good, telling himself all the time that the next 
cut would take him, certainly. 

But if Dick’s success at football was in a meas- 
ure disappointing, his faculty for making friends 
had not deserted him. He had acquired many by 
the end of the first fortnight at school. Of course, 
they were not all close friends, but they were 
more than mere acquaintances. Among the close 
friends he counted Stanley first. Then came Blash 
and Sid and Rusty. His liking for Blash— and 
Blash ’s for him— seemed to have started after the 
episode of the telephone call. Because Dick had 


108 QUABTEE-BACK BATES 

fooled Blash and Blash had taken it smilingly 
seemed no good reason for an increase of friend- 
ship, but there it was ! Blash still threatened to get 
even some day, and Dick was certain that he would, 
but that only made the mutual liking stronger. 
As between Sid Crocker and Eusty Crozier, Dick 
would have had trouble saying which he liked the 
better. Eusty was far more amusing, but Sid was 
a dependable sort of chap. In trouble, Dick would 
have thought first of Sid. Oddly enough, Dick’s 
popularity was greater amongst fellows older than 
he. Each of those whom he counted real friends 
was at least a year his senior, and Harry Warden, 
with whom acquaintanceship was fast warming 
into friendship, was nearly two years older. But 
the disparity in age was not greatly apparent, for 
Dick had the growth and manners of eighteen 
rather than seventeen, and one who didn’t know 
the truth might well have thought him as old as 
either Stanley or Eusty. 

Of enemies, so far as he knew, Dick had made 
but one. Sanford Halden allowed no opportunity 
to remind Dick of his enmity to get past him. 
He had been among those dropped from the First 
Team squad iu that first cut and it appeared that 
he somehow managed .to hold Dick to blame for 
that. When they passed in hall or on campus 


109 


LETTERS AND RHYMES 

Sandy always had a malevolent scowl for him, 
and once or twice Dick thought he even heard mut- 
ters ! All this Dick found mildly amusing. Sandy 
reminded him of a villain in a cheap melodrama. 
A few days after the cut Dick heard that Sandy 
had attached himself to the Second Nine for fall 
practice. 

Football took up a great deal of Dick's time 
and much of his thought, hut he managed to main- 
tain an excellent standing in each of his courses 
and thus won the liking of most of the instructors 
with whom he came in contact. With Mr. Mat- 
thews, who was Dick's advisor, he was soon on 
close terms of intimacy. The instructor was one 
of the younger faculty members, a man with a 
sympathetic understanding of hoys, and tastes that 
included most of the things that boys liked. He 
had a passion for athletics and was one of the 
Nine's most unflagging rooters- But for all this 
he was not generally liked. The younger hoys, 
who formed most of his classes, were suspicious 
of his fashion of regarding them individually in- 
stead of as a whole. They declared, some of them 
at least, that he ^‘crowded" them. By which, in 
school parlance, was meant that he tried to be too 
friendly. They resented his attempts to interest 
himself in their doings outside classes. Among 


110 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

the older boys, however, he was a prime favourite, 
and his study in Williams was the scene of Friday 
evening ‘^parties’’ that were always well attended. 
Anyone was welcome. There was much talk, the 
subjects ranging from the value of the ^‘spitbalP’ 
in pitching to the influence of Bible study on liter- 
ary style. At nine o’clock ginger ale and cookies 
^ — the latter especially made by a woman in the 
town and transferred each Friday from her house 
to the school in a laundry box by Mr. Matthews — 
were served. Perhaps some of the guests were 
present more on account of the ginger ale and mo- 
lasses cookies than for any other reason, for the 
cookies had long since gained a wide fame, but 
none questioned their motives. 

Stanley and Dick attended one of the parties the 
Friday following the Musket Hill game. There 
were more tham a dozen fellows alre^iady in the 
room when they arrived, most of whom Stanley 
knew and a few of whom were known to Dick. 
All the usual seating accommodation being ex- 
hausted, the instructor had dragged his bed to the 
door of the adjoining room, and on the edge of 
that the newcomers found places, they and a spec- 
tacled youth named Timmins completely Ailing the 
doorway. Conversation was still general. Mr. 
Matthews, dropping a word now and then into the 


LETTEKS AND RHYMES 1 

noisy confusion, was at his study table cutl I'o/ 
sheets of paper into quarters with a pair of sheU 
He wasn’t a bit impressive, being under rater 
than over medium height and slight of build. He 
had light hair that was already thin over the fe re 
head, bluish eyes and light lashes, all of which ge v 
him a somewhat colourless appearance. But th< . 
was an inquiring tilt to the short nose, a humor iic 
droop at the comers of the mouth and a very de- 
termined protrusion of the chin that lent interest 
to the countenance. 

The study was a comfortable sort of place. The 
woodwork was painted mahogany brown and there 
was a lightish buff paper on the walls and many 
books in the low cases and a few really good en- 
gravings above. The furniture was old, rather 
dilapidated and most friendly. Even the chairs 
whose backs were straightest and whose seats 
looked most uncompromising had acquired unsus- 
pected and hospitable curves. There was a deep 
red rug, rather a good rug it was if you knew 
anything about Mousuls, and a ‘‘saddle-bag” was 
stretched along the window-seat. Just now the 
latter was hidden by four of the guests. 

Mr. Matthews dropped the shears and rapped 
for attention. “Before we settle the affairs of na- 
tions, fellows, as is our weekly custom,” he an- 


112 QUARTEE-BACK BATES 

nonnced in his pleasant and somewhat precise 
voice, propose that we spend a half-hour in 

mere recreation. This particular form of recrea- 
tion is not original with me. I ran across it in 
the summer. Half a dozen of us were trying to 
live through the third day of a northeast storm 
down on the Maine coast. We’d exhausted every 
known means of staving off imbecility when one 
of the party, he happened to be a clergyman, by 
the way, introduced— should I say ‘sprung,’ Har- 
ris ? — sprung this on us. ‘ There are three things, ’ 
he said, ‘that every man firmly believes he can do. 
One is run a hotel, another is conduct a newspaper 
and the third is write poetry.’ He proposed that 
we should write poetry. We tried, and the results, 
if not calculated to win us undying fame, were at 
least amusing. Suppose, then, we try the same 
stunt this evening. Here are some pencils and 
two fountain pens. You are respectfully requested 
to leave the pens behind when you go out. The 
pencils I leave to your consciences. And here are 
some sheets of paper. Ford, would you mind dis- 
tributing to those behind you ? And you, McE wen 1 
Thank you. Now the idea is^to choose the sur- 
name of one of the party and write a two-line 
verse, the first line ending with the — er — ^victim’s 
name. Want to try it?” 


LETTEES AND EHYMES 113 

‘ ‘ Yes, sir ‘ ^ We ’ll try anything once ! ” ^ ‘ My 
middle name is Tennyson, Mr. Matthews!” 

right. And for the one who writes what is 
voted to be the best effusion, there is a prize con- 
cealed in this drawer here.” 

Loud applause from the assemblage, and an in- 
quiry from the window-seat: ‘^Please may we see 
it first, sirT’, followed by more applause and. 
laughter. 

‘^Sorry, Ne*S, but the prize is not to be seen 
until won. I want you to really try I To illustrate 
the style of composition to be followed, I give you 
this, gentlemen, craving your indulgence. It is 
one of my attempts on the occasion mentioned. I 
ran across it the other day and it gave me the idea 
of trying the game this evening. In explanation 
I may say that the gentleman mentioned was a 
super-excellent golf player and very, very thin as 
to body. 

‘Pore ! Fore ! Here comes the devastating Felton, 

To all opponents ‘‘The Inhuman Skeleton”!’ 

The rhyme is obviously of the licensed sort! But 
you get the idea, don’t you? Now, let’s select a 
name. [Which shall we start with?” 

“Ford, sir. That’s easy,” someone suggested. 

“Very weU. Three minutes is allowed. When 


114 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

the time is up 1^11 call ^Time’ and you will at once 
stop. Ready? Everyone supplied with pencil and 
paper?” 

‘‘All set!” “Let 'er go, sir!” 

“Now!” said Mr. Matthews, his eyes on his 
watch. The laughter was stilled and fifteen pens 
or pencils were poised over as many sheets of 
paper. Then mutters arose and feet shuffled. 
“Say, what rhymes with ‘Ford’?” asked Tim- 
mins of Stanley in an audible whisper. Chuckles 
arose and De Vitt answered, “ ‘Flivver,’ Tim! ” 
Dick was still struggling when the time was up and 
his second line was lacking a rhyme. 

“Now we will read the results in turn,” said 
Mr. Matthews. “Supose you begin, Harris.” 

“Not prepared, sir,” answered “Tip” Harris. 

Three others answered to the same effect and it 
was Cashin who bashfully produced the first com- 
position, as follows: 

“Apollo had nothing on Goody Ford. 

He^s cross-eyed and lantern- jawed.” 

“Ingenious,” commented Mr. Matthews, when 
the laughter had stopped, “but rather a libel on 
Ford. You’re next. Elders.” 

“I didn’t get mine done, sir. I think your watch 
was fast!” 


LETTERS AND RHYMES 


115 


^^How about you, GardT’ 

Guess you might as well open that drawer, 
sir!’^ And Stanley read: 

^‘He seeks no prize, does Goody Ford, 

For virtue is its own reward.’’ 

That won much applause, for Ford, whose ap- 
pelation of Goody,” derived from his given name 
of Goodman, was no indication of his behaviour, 
had scorned to take part in the competition. Two 
other verses were read and then a second name 
y^as chosen. This time it was Cashin, and nearly 
everyone turned in something. The best of them, 
if applause was any indication, was NeaPs : 

‘‘I sing the praise of our Beau Cashin, 

The latest cry in mode and fashion.” 

^‘That rhyme requires a license, too, Neal,” 
laughed Mr. Matthews. ‘ ‘ I might say, fellows, that 
it isn’t absolutely necessary to ‘knock’!” 

“No, sir,” agreed De Vitt, “but it’s easier!” 

Which rejoinder brought De Vitt into the lime- 
light, and his name was tried next. Gerald De 
Vitt was editor-in-chief of the school weekly, The 
'Leader, a likable fellow who took himself a bit 
seriously, who wrote long, sensible and very dull 


116 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

editorials, and who mistakenly conducted a column 
af allegedly humorous matter that was the despair 
of his friends. Consequently when Stanley read 
his production the howl of laughter that arose 
held as much applause as amusement. 

‘‘Here in our circle frowns the grave Be Vitt, 
Revered as Mentor and deplored as Wit ! ^ ’ 

Later someone suggested trying “Matthews’^ 
and there were many dismal failures and just one 
quasi-success. The latter was Dick’s. 

“Though anger may assail our Matthews 

His cheek ne’er shows the sanguine wrath hues.” 

In the end it was Stanley’s couplet on Be Vitt 
that was voted the prize and Mr. Matthews gravely 
opened the desk drawer and as gravely presented 
the fortunate contestant with a large red apple ! It 
was quite the largest apple any of them had ever; 
seen, and, while it was passed around, the instruct 
tor explained that it was one of a plate of prize- 
winners at the County Fair. At Stanley’s request 
a knife was produced and the apple was divided 
into sixteen pieces and distributed. Mr. Matthews 
brought out the “spread” and for an hour longer 
the gathering munched delectable cookies and 


LETTERS AND RHYMES 


117 


‘draiik ginger ale and talked. On the whole, the 
occasion was a very enjoyable one, and Dick de- 
termined that hereafter his Friday evenings 
should be spent in Number 2 Williams. And, al- 
though he missed a ^ ‘party’’ now and then, he kept 
that promise^ to himself fairly well. 


CHAPTER X 


WHITEWASHED ! 

Parkinson played Cumner High School the next 
afternoon. Cumner was a nearby town of some 
eight or nine thousand inhabitants set in the mid- 
dle of a prosperous farming community. The 
Cumner teams were made up largely of very hefty 
sons of the soil, averaging slightly older than 
Parkinson ^s representatives and invariably out- 
weighing them. As a rule Parkinson won because 
of better knowledge of the game and greater speed. 
She called Cumner ’s players The Farmers, but 
she did it with much respect and liking, knowing 
which Cumner took no exception to the title. In 
fact, the Cumner Football Team was one of a few 
that invariably received as hearty a welcome when 
it trotted onto Parkison Field as did the brown- 
and-white eleven. Its members were big, manly, 
hard-playing chaps who took defeat gallantly and 
victory modestly. 

Hick, of course, was not vitally interested in 
that game and as he was not required to report in 
togs today he and Stanley and Sid watched the 
118 


WHITEWASHED! 


119 


contest from seats in a stand. Cumner sliowed up 
unusually formidable during tbe ten or fifteen min- 
utes of practice that preceded tbe contest, and Sid, 
who, although a baseball man, knew football very 
thoroughly, predicted trouble ahead for the 
Brown-and- White. 

‘‘That’s the heaviest team they’ve sent over 
since I’ve been here,” commented Sid, “and they 
don’t look nearly as slow as they generally do. 
And that black-headed giant down there hasn’t 
missed a goal yet, although he’s tried some fierce 
angles. No, sir, Parkinson isn’t going to have any 
old walk-away this afternoon.” 

“Oh, we won’t pile up more than twenty points, 
maybe,” said Stanley. “Sometimes we don’t.” 

“Yes, and sometimes we just squeak through, 
as we did two years ago. Seven-six it was that 
time. I remember I had heart disease when Sin- 
clair got ready to try that goal. And then he. 
wouldn’t have made it if the ball had gone six 
inches further to the right.” 

“You don’t play football?” asked Dick. “I 
mean, you never have ? ” 

“No.” Sid shook his head. “I’ve always 
preferred baseball. I suppose I like it better be- 
cause it gives more chance for individual work. 
Of course, if you’re a backfield player in football 


120 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

yon have more show to work ‘on yonr own/ but a 
lineman’s a good deal like a piece of machinery; 
the more he’s like it the better he is. Now in 
baseball ” 

“He’s off!” groaned Stanley. “You shouldn’t 
have got him started, Dick. He’s good for an 
hour now!” 

But Sid’s exposition of the advantages of base- 
ball over the rival game was interrupted by the 
referee’s whistle and the thud of “Babe” Upton’s 
toe against the ball. Parkinson had put in what 
was to date her strongest line-up : Furniss, Har- 
ris, Cupp, Upton, Newhall, Wendell, Peters, 
Stone, Gaines, Warden and Kirkendall. Opposed 
to them were eleven heavier and yet apparently 
rangey youths. Even the Cumner quarter-back 
must have tipped the scales at a hundred and 
fifty, and the ends were unusually weighty for 
their positions. But Cumner soon showed that 
weight and speed may go together. The kick-off 
fell on her twenty-yard line, was seized by a long- 
legged back and, with the team closing in ahead 
of him, the back ran straight ahead for fifteen 
yards before he was downed. Bob Peters had 
followed the short kick closely, but even Bob 
couldn’t penetrate the close defence until three 
white lines had been crossed by the runner. 


WHITEWASHED! 


121 


Three plays took the ball out of the danger 
zone and Cuniner opened up with a dazzling for- 
ward-pass that put the hall well beyond the centre 
of the field. After that a penalty set her back and 
she was forced to punt. But three minutes later 
the ball was hers again, for Kirkendall, tackled on 
an end run, had dropped it and a Cumner youth 
had fallen on it. Again came a forward, this 
time far and swift, and Fumiss, watching the 
wrong opponent, saw the pigskin settle into the 
hands of the Cumner right half. It was Stone 
' who chased the runner out of bounds on Parkin- 
son’s twenty-six yards. 

^^What do you know about that?” marvelled 
Sid. 

^‘You tell me,” said Stanley. 

‘‘Sure I will! I’ll tell you that I smell a score, 
sonny!” 

“Oh, we’ll hold ’em off, all right. They won’t 
try any more forwards. Watch them crack 
against our line.” 

But Cumner didn’t crack. At least, she man- 
aged to make her distance in four and arrived at 
the Brown-and-White’s fifteen-yard line to the 
surprised dismay of the home rooters. The 
Parkinson left had been twice punctured for re- 
spectable gains and twice Cumner had slashed 


122 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

a path outside right tackle. Cumner had evolved 
a very satisfactory method for bottling Captain 
Peters, using a tackle, brought across from the 
other side of her line, and a back for the purpose. 
But, although the hundred or more Cumner sup- 
porters yelled in triumph and a touchdown seemed 
imm inent, Parkinson for the time staved off a 
score. Two straight plunges at the left of her 
centre gained only two yards, and the Cumner 
right half walked back to kicking position. The 
angle, however, was difficult and few looked for 
a bona fide attempt at a field-goal. Consequently 
the short forward-pass that followed, from the 
Cumner right half directly across the centre of 
the line, didn’t catch the home team napping. 
Gaines intercepted it and went plunging back into 
the mffiee and made seven yards before he was 
stopped. Parkinson punted on first down and the 
ball was Cumner ’s on her forty-six. 

Stanley taunted Sid with the failure of his pre- 
diction. ‘ ‘ Where ’s that score, you old gloom ? ” he 
demanded. ‘‘Dick, I don’t want to say anything 
that might be construed into a criticism of our 
mutual friend, Mr. Crocker, but I must remark 
that he’s a bum prophet.” 

“Hold your horses,” answered Sid soberly. 
“That score’s coming and it’s coming mighty 


WHITEWASHED! 123 

soon. Those farmers have found someone to 
teach them football. They know the game. Watch 
them for the next five minutes, Stan, and then tell 
me if I^m a bum prophet.’’ 

‘‘I’ll tell you so now,” replied Stanley cheer- 
fully. “I don’t have to wait five minutes. Say, 
what are those hayseeds up to! What sort of a 
silly stunt is that?” 

Cumner had stretched her line across the field 
in a weird formation indeed. A horse and wagon 
might have easily been driven between any two of 
her linemen. Quite alone stooped the centre, the 
quarter eight yards behind him and the other backs 
apparently no longer interested in anything he 
might do. To meet this scattering of forces 
Parkinson likewise spread out, but she did it less 
whole-heartedly, keeping her centre trio pretty 
close together. Her backs adopted the “basket 
formation” well behind the line, for it seemed that 
Cumner ’s queer arrangement of her players must 
portend some novel type of forward-passing. Yet, 
when centre lined the ball back to the quarter, 
nothing extremely novel developed. The out- 
spread line dashed forward straight toward the op- 
ponent’s goal and the quarter, delaying a moment, 
sped off at a slight angle, the ball cupped in his 
arm. To his support came two backs. But Parkin- 


124 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

son, after a brief second of hesitation, concen- 
trated on the oncoming trio, and, although Cumner 
netted six yards on the play, the Brown-and- 
kWhite^s adherents howled ironically. That even 
six yards had been gained was merely because 
Parkinson had refused to believe her eyes and had 
waited too long before going in. Another time, 
peered Stanley, they^d be lucky to get an inch! 

Cumner tried her full-back against Parkinson’s 
right and lost two of the six she had won. This 
was from ordinary formation, as was her next at- 
tempt to skirt Bob Peter’s end. On the latter play 
she made a scant yard. Then, while Parkinson 
rooters laughed and hooted in good-natured deri- 
sion, Cumner again broke her line apart. Whsit 
followed this time, however, was far different. 
When the ball was shot back to the quarter the 
Parkinson centre trio made straight for that 
youth, bowling the centre out of their path. The 
quarter seemed to the onlookers unusually slow 
and even at a loss, for after a moment of hesita- 
tion he made a tentative stride to the right, 
stopped, faced the attack undecidedly and then 
dashed away at a surprising speed toward the 
right side of the field. A back had already shot 
off in that direction and was some fifteen yards 
beyond the quarter when the latter, deftly eluding 


WHITEWASHED! 


125 


the Parkinson left tackle, whirled, stopped and 
shot the ball away at a lateral pass. Parkinson 
had nnconsciously drawn in toward the quarter- 
back, even her left half having wandered from his 
position, and when the Cumner half, catching the 
pass neatly, again threw the ball forward there 
was none near the receiver. The latter was the 
Cumner right end who had, almost unseen, trotted 
down the field just inside the boundary. That 
second pass was fairly high and it seemed that 
KirkendaU would reach the receiver in time to 
spoil it, but he didn’t quite succeed. The best he 
could do was give chase along the edge of the field 
and, at the last, defeat the effort of that speedy 
Cumner right end to centre the ball behind the 
Parkinson goal. Stone, too, was in the race, but, 
like the full-back, never reached the runner until 
the line had been crossed. 

Cumner ’s supporters went wild with joy, and 
long after the pigskin had been punted out from 
the comer of the gridiron to a waiting left guard, 
their howls and cheers arose from across the field. 
Sid forebore to say told you so,” but Stanley 
sadly apologised. ‘‘I retract what I said, Sid,” 
he stated dolefully. ^'You’re not a bum prophet. 
You’re a prophetic bum!” 

Cumner kicked goal easily after the punt-out 


126 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

and when the ball had again sailed through the 
air the first quarter ended. That twelve-minute 
period, however, spelled ultimate disaster for the 
home team, for although Cumner did not score 
again, Parkinson failed to score at all ! Twice she 
came near to it, once in the second quarter and 
once in the third. In the second she slammed her 
way to Cumner ’s seven yards, lost ten yards on a 
penalty, and failed of a field-goal by inches only. 
In the third period she reached her opponent’s 
four yards only to have KirkendalPs last effort 
fail by a scant six inches. That was bitter medicine 
to the Brown-and- White, and after that failure all 
the fight seemed to have gone out of her. In the 
final period, with many substitutes in, she showed 
some life, to be sure, but there wasn’t punch 
enough left to make her dangerous, and Cumner, 
still playing with her first line-up practically in- 
tact, kicked out of danger whenever it threatened. 

Going back to the campus after Cumner, cheer- 
ing and singing, had marched triumphantly under 
the goals, Sid predicted a shake-up in the team. 
‘^You can’t tell me,” he said, ‘Hhat we had any 
right to get licked today. That flukey play of 
Cumner ’s that got them their score may have been 
unpreventable, although I don’t think so, but 
where we fell down hard was in that third period 


WHITEWASHED! 


127 


when K couldn^t get across. It isn’t allowable 
for a Parkinson team to get to the four yards and 
not get over. It isn’t done among the best Parkin- 
son teams !” 

thought,” observed Dick, ^^that Kirkendall 
should have been sent around tackle on that last 
play. We’d hammered their centre three times 
and they were looking for us to do it again and 
they’d massed their whole secondary defence be- 
hind it. Seems to me- ” 

‘‘I think so too,” agreed Sid. “Give ’em what 
they aren’t expecting, is my motto. Stone ought 
to have kept them guessing. His idea, I suppose, 
was that if he hammered the centre long enough it 
would weaken. Even their backs couldn’t have 
stopped a score if the line had busted, Dick. You 
see, we needed only a yard at the last and we’d 
have got it if their centre had weakened a bit 
more. It’s easy to criticise from the grand-stand, 
but it’s likely that Stone knew more than we did 
about those fellows he was facing. He probably 
had good reason to think he could smash K 
through there. Must have or he wouldn’t have 
persisted the way he did. Well, we’ll have 
to do better next week or we’ll get a good 
trouncing. ’ ’ 

“Phillipsburg?” asked Stan. “Yes, that’s 


128 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

so. We play them on theii? grounds, too, and that 
makes a difference. Hang it, I wish we^d tried a 
goal from the field that last time. Even three 
points would he something! It looks like the dick- 
ens to have those farmers whitewash us? We 
haven’t been whitewashed for agesl’^ 

‘‘Maybe we needed it, then,” chuckled Sid. 
“But you know Bob Peters well enough to be cer- 
tain he wouldn’t be satisfied with three points 
when he might get seven. Not Bob! He’d want 
to win or tie. Just getting a consolation prize 
wouldn’t appeal to him, Stan.’^ 

“It would to me, then,” muttered Stan. “You 
going to Phillipsburg?” 

“No, I can’t. We’ve got a sort of a game on 
Saturday with Wame High School. It doesn’t 
amount to much ; six innings and we to use second- 
string pitchers; but it’s likely to be about the last 
chance of the season to try some real work. You 
expect to goP^ 

“I don’t know. What about it, Dick?” 

“I’d like to. Is it much of a trip?” 

“No, a couple of hours. I’ll go if you do, I 
guess. Got any money ? ’ ’ 

“Yes. I’ll stake you. Will many of the fellows 
go?” 

“A lot,” answered Sid. “I think Blash intends 


.WHITEWASHED! 129 

going. Well, see you later, fellows. We’ll be over 
about seven.” 

‘‘That’s right,” exclaimed Stanley joyfully. 
“This is movie night! Oh, you Douglas Hart! 
Oh, you Bill Fairbanks! So long, Sid!” 


CHAPTER XI 


WAEDEN ADVISES 

The shake-up predicted by Sid didn’t come, al- 
though several experimental changes were tried in 
the line-up the next week. Dick learned from 
Cardin that Coach Driscoll had taken a large share 
of the responsibility for that defeat, declaring 
that he should have supplied the team with a better 
defence for the one-man pass. Dick and Cardin 
had taken to each other and, during scrimmage 
y^hen Stone was running the First Team against 
the Second, usually sat together on the bench. In 
a measure they were rivals, but Cardin was second- 
choice quarter and Dick — ^well, Dick was so far 
down on the list that his number didn’t mattgr. 
Stone, Cardin and Pryne were the quarters who 
would be depended on this season, and Dick some- 
times wondered why he and two other aspirants 
were retained. But they were, at least until the 
Friday of that week. Then Dick alone remained 
and could flatter himself if he chose to with the 
title of fourth-string quarter-back! With the 
passing of the two superfluous quarters came the 

130 


WARDEN ADVISES 131 

elimination of a half-dozen assorted candidates 
and the First Team was down to less than forty 
players. 

It had been decided that Dick and Stanley, Blash 
and Rusty were to accompany the team to Phillips- 
burg on Saturday, and, when that day arrived, go 
they did. But they didnT go together, for on 
Friday afternoon, after the players were back in 
the locker room in the gymnasium. Manager 
Whipple read the names of the thirty-one fel- 
lows who were to report at eleven the next fore- 
noon, and lo, the list began in this surprising 
manner : 

‘‘Abbott, Abernathy, Banker, Bates ’’ 

So Stanley, Blash and Rusty Crozier travelled 
to Phillipsburg in the twelve-ten accommodation, 
vrhile Dick, one of a small army of players, coaches, 
trainers, rubbers and managers, departed in style 
at eleven-forty on the Springfield Express which, 
for that occasion only, was scheduled to stop at 
Phillipsburg at twelve-fifty-four. They walked to 
the station, each with his togs in a bag, and pre- 
sented a fairly formidable army as they marched 
by twos and threes down School Street. Small 
boys stood spellbound in awed admiration and 
elderly citizens smiled or frowned according to 
their sympathies: for Warne is still a somewhat 


132 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

old-fashioned town and there were still those who 
looked with disfavour on the rude sport of foot- 
balL 

At the station Billy Goode and his assistants 
were waiting beside a baggage truck piled high 
with paraphernalia, and the assistant manager, 
who, as he would become manager next year, must 
learn his trade by serving an apprenticeship to 
which fell the hard work, was standing nearby 
importantly frowning over an envelope full of 
round-trip tickets. He had counted the contents 
of the envelope three times and had got a different 
result with each count. Stearns Whipple relieved 
him of further responsibility by pocketing the 
tickets uncounted while the assistant dug up the 
balance of the eighty dollars entrusted to him. 
The express came in twelve minutes late — being 
late was a long-standing habit of the express— and 
they piled aboard. Seats were few and Dick was 
among the dozen or more who were forced to 
stand or sit on their up-ended suit-cases in the 
aisle. At the first stop after Warne, however, 
Dick and Warden were lucky enough to fall heirs 
to the seat of an elderly couple nearby who for 
twenty minutes had displayed intense bewilder- 
ment over the somewhat boisterous horde of boys 
who had invaded the car. Dick thought he read 


WARDEN ADVISES 1.33 

intense relief on the prim countenance of the old 
lady as she left. 

‘‘I wouldn’t be Buiprised if Mr. Driscoll used 
you today, Bates,” said Warden when they were 
speeding on agaiu. ‘‘I have an idea that it’s been 
decided to put iu a practically fresh liue-up in the 
second half. No one cares an awful lot whether 
we win from Phillipsburg, and it’s about time 
some of the second-string fellows got a good try- 
out.” 

‘‘But I’m not a secondrstring feUow,” demurred 
Dick. 

“N-no, but I think he means to give all his 
backs a whack at it thi^ afternoon. If you do get 
in, old" man, just keep your head steady. Don’t 
let anything or anyone rattle you. If you look out 
for that you ’ll make good, I guess. Another thing. 
Bates. Don’t be afraid of hustling the team. A 
team likes to work fast. It’s the waits between 
plays that raise the dickens sometimes. Keep 
us going. And talk it up a lot. That helps, even 
if it does sound crazy on the side-lines. Scold, too, 
but don ’t nag. Stone nags too much. And Cardin 
doesn’t whoop it up enough. I tell you. Bates, a 
fellow likes to feel that his quarter is right on the 
job, that he isn’t missing a trick and that he’s 
standing by every minute. I don’t know if I make 


134 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

myself quite clear. But, for instance, when I^m 
playing I like to feel that all I’ve got to do is 
mind the quarter, that he knows what he’s doing. 
I want to have implicit confidence in my quarter. 
Then I can play ball. If I don’t have confidence I 
can’t. I get to thinking: What’s he mean by 
that? That isn’t the play for the down. Sup- 
pose he’s mixed on his signals : Is the ball going 
to be there when I’m ready? And I lose confidence 
in my own ability to make the play good. 

‘‘Last year we had Patterson. He was a won- 
der, my idea of just what a quarter should be. If 
it was fourth down on the other fellow’s one-yard 
and Billy called for a punt we’d have thought it 
all right. Not one of us would have questioned. 
He didn’t make mistakes and we knew it. I say 
he didn’t make mistakes, but of course he did once 
in a while. He was only human, you know. He 
pulled an awful ‘boner’ in the Chancellor game. 
He had called the ‘big shift’ and then he sent K 
around the wrong end and we lost about six yards ; 
and a touchdown, too, as it proved, for we couldn’t 
make the distance afterwards. Of coul-se we were 
pretty sore and we’d have said some hard things 
just then to anyone but Billy. You might expect 
a quarter after doing a stunt like that to be all 
broke-up, but when I got on my feet again Billy 


WAEDEN ADVISES 


135 


was laughing for all he was worth. ‘That^s the 
worst one I ever pulled/ said he. ‘I guess the 
old beanos slipping, fellows! ’ So, in about one 
second we were all laughing, too, and calling it a 
joke. But Billyhs old bean didn’t slip very often, 
I’m teUing you.” 

‘^Did you win that game, Warden?” asked Dick. 

‘‘Oh, sure! We got over the next try all right. 
I forget the score. Something like three scores 
to one, I think. But if Billy had got sore we’d 
have all been sore, and being sore doesn’t help 
much. Unless you’re sore against the other team. 
A quarter wants to be a regular double-dyed 
optimist. Bates, and he wants to let everyone 
know it, for the rest of the team will take their 
cue from him. Just let them think that he’s dis- 
couraged and they’ll feel the same way, and as 
soon as they do they’ll quit trying their hardest. 
They won’t mean to, mind you, but they will. 
There’s a lot of psychology in a football game, 
old man.” 

“Yes, I think that’s so,” agreed Dick. “Where 
I’ve played, back home, though, it’s always been 
the captain that’s run things. Warden.” 

“Bad business. A captain shouldn’t butt in on 
the running of the team unless it’s absolutely im- 
perative. He has a position to play and he ought 


136 QUABTER-BACK BATES 

to give his whole mind to playing it. You watch 
Bob. YouB almost never see him question a 
signal or even suggest a play. You can’t have 
two bosses, Bates, and a quarter-back is in posi- 
tion to see what’s going on and to dope out the 
answer. Sometimes Bob will guess what the other 
fellow is up to and let us know, and he’s usually 
right, too, but that’s about all he does except play 
his position. Off the field he’s the Big Boss, but 
on it he’s taking his orders from the quarter just 
like the rest of us. I’m doing a lot of talking, but 
I’ve got rather strong convictions as to the proper 
playing of the quarter-back position. Bates, and I 
thought I’d hand them on. Even if you don’t like 
’em there’s no harm done.” 

‘‘I’m glad you have. Warden,” said Dick ear- 
nestly. “I’d never thought much about the — 
what you call the psychology of the thing. But I 
see that you’re right. And I’ll keep it in mind— if 
I ever get a chance!” 

“Oh, your chance will come before the sea- 
son’s over. Mr. DriscoU isn’t keeping you on the 
squad just to look at. Bates, I’ve seen a whole 
team pretty nearly turned upside down between 
the first game and the last, seen fellows who sup- 
posedly never had a chance come out of the big 
game covered with medals. You never can tell! 


WAEDEN ADVISES 


137 


Well, next stop^s our, I think. I’m as hungry as a 
bear. I hope they give us a good feed at the 
hotel. Two years ago we nearly starved.” 

Phillipsburg didn’t impress Dick very favour- 
ably at the first glance for the sunlight of a gor- 
geous October day was almost obscured by a pall 
of smoke from the many factories along the rail- 
way. But later, when they had left the station 
behind and were trudging up the hill toward the 
centre of the city, the smoke disappeared and 
Phillipsburg turned out to be rather attractive. 
The hotel was one of those old-fashioned hostelries 
set close to the street, with a broad verandah run- 
ning along the front on which gentlemen of leisure 
sat tilted back in their chairs and watched life go 
by. To the loungers the arrival of thirty-odd 
guests in one bunch was a refreshingly momentous 
event, doubtless affording them more real excite- 
ment than they had experienced since the last col- 
lision or runaway. Quite a number of them aban- 
doned their ease and comfort and followed the 
end of the procession into the lobby to satisfy their 
curiosity. 

Dinner — or luncheon as it really was — was 
served in a small and very musty smelling room 
on the second floor, a room evidently dedicated to 
the yearly banquets of the Odd Fellows and the 


138 QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

annual conclave of the local Order of White Ele- 
phants. There was a faded red carpet on the 
floor and three long walnut tables were arranged 
around as many sides of a square. The chairs 
matched the tables and dated back to about the 
period of the Hayes and Tilden campaign. But 
the food wasn’t bad and the two coloured waiters, 
in spite of the infirmities of age, managed to get 
it to the table fairly hot. 

After the meal was finished Coach Driscoll 
explained the plans for the afternoon game. 
Phillipsburg Academy had a light-weight and 
supposedly speedy team that relied on passing 
and running more than on line-smashing. Her 
punters were exceptionally good and her ends 
fast. To meet the Phillipsburg style of offence 
Parkinson would play her ends back and her 
tackles out, with Stone and Warden dividing the 
field. Phillipsburg made use of both the ‘ ^ bunch 
and the ‘^one-man” pass and used a lateral pass 
as well. If Phillipsburg switched her attack to 
the centre of the line, the Parkinson tackles were 
to come in again, but there were always to be two 
men up the field. On attack the Brown-and- White 
was to try out several new running plays and to 
use the forward-pass whenever practical inside 
the neutral zone. 


WAEDEN ADVISES 


139 


‘‘WeVe got a good chance, fellows,^’ said Mr. 
Driscoll, ^^to try out our passing and end-running 
plays against a team who has a scientific defence 
against them. If we make our passes go we 11 
have reason to he a bit satisfied with ourselves, 
for Phillipsburg has worked out a pretty good de- 
fence against the passing game. What she can do 
to stop end-runs remains to be seen. But you’ve 
got to start quick today and run hard and watch 
the holes, you backs. You’ve got to show about 
twice the speed you showed against Cumner last 
week. If you don’t, these chaps will make you look 
mighty poor. 

‘‘I’m going to see that every fellow has a look- 
in at 'some time during the game. We may lose 
the game, but we’re going to get experience. 
Mind, I’m not saying we shall lose it or that we 
ought to, because I don’t think for a moment that 
Phillipsburg is a bit better than we are, even if 
we use third-string players. If you’ll use your 
heads today, and play as fast as you know how, 
you’ll come out on top. I want to see that Num- 
ber 12 play go smoothly today. It’s a winner if 
you pull it right, but you’ve got to get together 
on it. All right. Any questions, fellows?” 

A few minutes later they crowded into two yel- 
low trolley cars and went bouncing and swaying 


140 QUAitTER-BACK BATES 

out toward the Academy, a mile from town. Dick 
had held a few hurried words with Stanley and 
Blash in the lobby. Rusty, it seemed, had disap- 
peared while they had been having lunch in a 
white-enamelled place down the block and hadn’t 
turned up since. ‘‘He’s probably up to some 
idiotic tomfoolery,” grumbled Stanley, “and we’ll 
have to go to the police station later and bail him 
out, I suppose. Well, good luck, Dick! Hope you 
get into it. If you do, remember the Maine and all 
that sort of thing!” 

The squad changed into football togs in a room 
assigned to their use in the Academy gymnasium 
and at a few minutes past two went across the elm- 
shaded school yard to the athletic field beyond. 
A tall youth with an embarrassed manner and a 
prominent' Adam’s apple, the assistant manager 
of the Phillipsburg team, personally conducted 
them. The game was scheduled for half-past two 
and already the stands were well sprinkled with 
spectators. A cheering section of some hundred 
or so Parkinsonians was already in place and the 
Brown-and- White trotted onto the field to a quite 
noisy reception. Three squads took the gridiron 
for signal drill and the punters got busy. Dick 
accompanied the latter and punted and caught for 
a good fifteen minutes, getting rather warm dur- 


WAKDEN ADVISES 


141 


ing the proceedings. Phillipsbnrg arrived at two- 
twenty and hustled out for a warming-up. By that 
time the stands were about filled and the cheering 
was on in earnest. Then the teams retired to 
their benches, the captains met in midfield, shook 
hands and watched the flicking of a coin, and Bob 
Peters waved toward the south goal. 

‘‘Means we won the toss,^’ commented Jerry 
Wendell, right tackle. “Well, here goes!^’ Dick 
laid strong hands on WendelPs sweater and the 
latter squirmed out like a moth from a chrysalis. 


CHAPTER Xn 


THE PHILLIPSBURG GAME 

There were not as many in attendance at the 
game as was usual at Parkinson, although Phillips- 
hurg was a fair-sized city and Wame only an over- 
grown town. Perhaps the fact that Phillipshurg 
Academy was a very long mile from the city had 
something to do with the meagreness of the audi- 
ence. At all events, aside from the rival cheering 
sections the stands showed long empty stretches, 
and Cardin, who shared an end of the bench with 
Dick, resented it. 

‘ ‘ Guess they must think this is a practice game, 
he grumbled. 

‘‘Well, Mr. Driscoll seems to think so, too,’’ 
sai^ Dick. “He says we’re all to have a show 
before it’s over.” 

“He’ll forget that, though,” replied the other 
pessimistically, “when we need a score to tie or 
something. Coaches are always making cracks 
like that and then forgetting ’em. Bet you I won’t 
get in. Bates, and bet you you won’t.” 

Dick shook his head. “I might bet about you, 

142 


THE PHILLIPSBUEG GAME 


143 


but I wouldn’t wager an old straw bat on my 
chances. Still, he said we would. There we go!” 

Long, who was at right half, had pulled down 
the home team’s kick-off and started across the 
field with the hall, but the advance was short-lived, 
for a speedy Phillipsburg end soon had him, and 
it was Parkinson’s ball on her twenty-two yards. 

Kirkendall shot through the enemy left for three 
and then lost half the distance on a similar at- 
tempt. Stone punted to the Phillipsburg forty, a 
high kick that found both Peters and Furniss 
waiting when it came down. The catcher was 
downed in his tracks. Phillipsburg started in 
merrily with a twenty-yard pass diagonally across 
her line, but Peters smashed it aside and the ball 
went back. A second forward, this time to the 
opposite side, grounded, for Warden had run the 
receiver far out of position. Phillipsburg stabbed 
the Parkinson centre once in a half-hearted way 
and got a bare four feet and then punted. The 
ball, rising near the thirty yards, corkscrewed 
beautifully down to the opposite thirty-five where 
Warden got it but was stopped immediately. On 
the exchange Parkinson had gained ten yards. 
Kirkendall smashed the centre and got two. War- 
den added three and Stone again punted. 

This time he managed a better ball, for it had 


144 QUAilTER-BACK BATES 

both height and distance and was nicely placed in 
the left-hand corner of the field. With Peters and 
Furniss both on his heels, the Phillipsburg quarter 
made no attempt to catch, and it was Furniss who 
finally seized the bounding oval and downed it on 
the enemy’s twenty-seven. Phillipsburg split her 
line and shot the quarter through on a tricky dash 
that fooled the opponent nicely. When the quarter 
was stopped he had reeled otf twelve yards and 
the ball was close to the boundary. The Phillips- 
burg rooters cheered lustily. An attempt to ad- 
vance on the short side was foiled and the ball 
was paced in. On second down Phillipsburg was 
caught off-side and set back. A run half across 
the field netted but four yards and Phillipsburg 
punted from near her thirty-five, the ball going out 
at the visitor’s forty. 

Kirkendall got clean away on the first run from 
kick formation and, with excellent interference, 
put eighteen yards behind him. Long was stopped 
and Warden made three. Kirkendall, again called 
on, tried left tackle and managed to make three 
more. Stone again punted. 

On the side-line Coach Driscoll was frowning 
intently. Dick, noting, thought he understood. 
He had heard the final instructions in the gym- 
nasium and recalled the coach’s words distinctly: 


THE PHILLIPSBURG GAME 


145 


‘‘Keep out of their line, Stone, until you^re cer- 
tain you canT get your distance any other way.’^ 
Now Stone seemed to have forgotten those instnic- 
tions, for not once had a forward-pass been tried, 
while at least a half-dozen plays had been aimed 
inside the Phillipsburg tackles. Dick didn’t see 
what Bob Peters had gained by giving the kick-off 
to the enemy and then promptly punting the ball 
back into her hands, nor what Stone’s idea was 
in kicking regularly on third down, irrespective 
of the distance lacking. However, it was possible 
that Stone had something up his sleeve, and when 
Phillipsburg had failed at a well-tried “bunch” 
forward and been stopped at the opponent’s left 
end and had punted to mid-field, Dick looked for 
another forward-pass. But it didn’t materialise. 
Instead, Stone tried a delayed pass and got away 
with the ball very neatly along the left side. But 
an obstreperous Phillipsburg lineman wormed 
through and nailed him short of any gain. Kirk- 
endall again retired to kicking position and, with 
the ball snuggled, shot off at a tangent for the 
enemy’s right. But the play worked less weU this 
time. The interference was split and a Phillips- 
burg half nailed Kirkendall three yards past the 
line. Then the delayed forward-pass came and 
Warden tossed across to Peters. Peters tipped 


146 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

the throw but lost it. Again Stone punted, this 
time making a miserable failure of it and landing 
the ball but twenty yards away. It descended in 
the midst of a pushing crowd of opponents, leaped 
toward the side-line and was finally landed a few 
feet away. 

For another three of four minutes Ihe play hov- 
ered about midfield, neither side showing any indi- 
cation of a consistent attack, and then the whistle 
blew. Coach Corliss summoned Cardin to him. 
Dick watched them in conversation a bit enviously. 
Then Cardin sped on, followed by Bartlett, a right 
guard, and Gross, a left tackle. 

When play began again Stone was somewhat 
dourly looking on from the bench and Cardin was 
in command. Phillipsburg had made no changes. 
Phillipsburg shot a breath-taking forward from 
her thirty-seven yards to Parkinson’s thirty-five, 
but, although it deserved to succeed. Bob Peters 
had his man guarded too closely and the pass 
grounded. A second attempt on a third down 
went better and Phillipsburg got seven yards, 
three more than needed. Then, on her forty-five, 
she started an advance that only slowed when she 
was under the Brown-and- White’s goal. Two 
forward-passes, each short but certain, took her 
well past midfield. After that two tricky split- 


THE PHILLIPSBUEG GAME 147 

plays let lier clever quarter through for scandalous 
gains, and, almost before Parkinson realised what 
was happening, the ball was on the Brown-and- 
White’s twenty-one. There was much shouting 
from the stands, much anxiety on th 3 benches as 
Phillip sburg stabbed the line once for practically 
no gain and then dropped a tackle back to kick- 
ing position. 

^‘Any fool could make a goal from there,’' 
growled ‘^Tip” Harris, who, deposed from left 
tackle position, had seated himself beside Dick. 
‘‘It’s dead in front of goal and not thirty 
yards!” 

“But do they mean to try?” asked Dick. 
“Seems to me one of those short forwards of 
theirs ” 

“Yes, but I guess they want the three points, 
Bates. There’s a lot in getting first blood. Say, 
he doesn’t act as if he meant to kick, though ! By 

jiminy ” Tip raised his voice imploringly: 

“Watch a run, Parkinson! Watch that man, 
Bob!” 

Mr. Driscoll, nearby, turned disapprovingly. 
“Cut that, Harris,” he ordered. Tip subsided, 
muttering. From the teams came many warnings : 
“Hold that line, Phillipsburg ! Hold that line!” 
“Break it up! Block this kick, Parkinson!” 


148 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

'^WatcH that halfP^ ^‘Signals! Signals !’' 
^^Come on! Here we go!’’ 

Back shot the ball to the tall tackle ^s waiting 
hands. The lines plunged and heaved. The tackle 
swung a long leg under him. But the ball hadn’t 
left his hands, and now, pushing it into the crook 
of his left elbow, he sprang off to the left, the 
other backs closing in about him. As quickly as he 
had started, he stopped, swung directly about and, 
with two Parkinson men trying to reach him past 
his interference, raised the pigskin on high and 
threw far and swiftly. Thirty yards away a 
Phillipsburg end was streaking toward the corner 
of the field. Now he was past the line, well intoi 
the end zone, and not an opponent was near him., 
Straight for his upstretched hands flew the ball, 
like a brown streak, and not until too late did 
Parkinson see her danger. Then half a dozen 
of her defenders sprang toward the lone enemy. 
But the deed was done. Into his hands settled the 
ball, he turned on his heel and plunged toward the 
goal and when he had been rescued from under 
three brown-and-white legged opponents the pig- 
skin was half-way between side-line and nearer 
goal-post. 

Phillipsburg waved and cheered, and stood on 
the seats and howled, while from across the grid- 


THE PHILLIPSBUEG GAME 149 

iron came a fainter but defiant ‘‘Parkinson! 
Parhmson! PARKINSON Mr. Driscoll 
turned bis countenance to the bench and shook 
his head, smiling ruefully. “Half our team 
asleep, fellows, ’ ^ he said. ‘ ‘Scoville, go in for Fur- 
niss ! Warm up, Gaines I ’ ’ 

Phillipsburg missed a fairly easy goal after 
the touchdown and play began again in midfield. 
There was no more scoring in the quarter although 
Gaines, restored to his place at half, twice almost 
got clear. Under Cardin’s direction, Parkinson 
thrice tried forward-passes and but once suc- 
ceeded. Then Gaines, catching, reeled off a dozen 
yards before he was forced out of bounds. The 
half ended with the score stiH 6-0. 

There was some hard, plain talk in the gymna- 
sium for the Parkinson audience. Mr. Driscoll was 
far from pleased and he didn’t hesitate to make 
the fact known. “You fellows have been taught 
football for two years, some of you longer, and 
yet you went out there and just stood around all 
during the first period. That sort of thing won’t 
win games ! Do something ! Try something ! If 
you can’t do anything else, worry your opponent. 
All you did was to hand him the ball back. Stone, 
a lot of that was up to you. You had your instruc- 
tions to try out your overhead game, and your 


150 QUARTEK-BACK BATES 

running game, and what did you do? You went 
at the line every time you got the ball! Now I’m 
going to start in with the beginning of this last half 
and use the bench. If you don’t want to get licked, 
use your heads and play football ! You can score 
if you try hard enough. You ought to score at 
least twice. And if you let those fellows get close 
enough to your goal to pull another of those for- 
wards over the line you deserve to lose! You 
were all asleep, every man Jack of you! Long, 
where were you when that happened? And you, 
Gross? And you. Stone? Someone’s got to watch 
the end of the line, feUows! You can’t all go off 
visiting like that ! You’ve each got a duty to per- 
form on every play and you each know it, but just 
because the other fellow pulls something you 
haven’t met up with since last year you forget 
everything and go straggling after him to see what 
he ’ll do ! You stay in position after this, no matter 
what the other fellow does. Another thing — and 
I’m aiming this at you, Wendell, more than anyone 
—watch your hands. The rules require that no 
part of your body shall be ahead of the line of 
scrimmage. If the umpire was strict he’d have 
called you off-side twenty times. Keep your arms 
down and your hands back until the ball’s in play. 
After that I don’t care how fast you bring them 


THE PHILLIPSBURG GAME 


151 


up. Now, then, we’re going to play fast ball this 
half. Pryne, you’re quarter. Keep the team on 
the jump every minute. Start your signal the 
minute the whistle blows and make your men hus- 
tle to positions so that the play can snap off 
quickly. You’ve been loafing for two periods. 
Now I want to see some world I want a score in- 
side the next twelve minutes. Here’s the line- 
up.” 

That the coach meant to ‘‘use the bench” was 
very evident. Of the original starters only three 
remained, Kirkendall, Upton and Peters. Save 
for the former, the backfield was all new: Pryne 
at quarter, Skinner and Curtis at half: and in 
the line were five second- and third-string play- 
ers. That Parkinson could win with that aggre- 
gation was far too much to expect, and there were 
plenty who said so on the way back to the field 
when half-time was over. Stone was still dis- 
gruntled and very pessimistic, and he and Car- 
din grumbled together all during the third period. 
Usually they had little to say to each other, but 
today their wrongs drew them together. 

That third period, in spite of the “crape hang- 
ers,” showed the visiting team to far better ad- 
vantage. Although, as it turned out, Parkinson 
neither scored or came dangerously near scoring. 


152 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

slie played a hard, earnest game and stopped 
every attempt of the opponent to get to her last 
line. In the first three minutes of the quarter 
Phillipsburg attempted a hopeless place-kick from 
the thirty-eight yards, but it landed far short, and 
after that her desperate forward-passes were al- 
ways spoiled. It is only fair to say that luck 
favoured the visitors more than once, however. 
With an even break of fortune there might have 
been a different story to relate. 

Pryne ran the team according to directions as 
best he could. He lacked experience, though, and 
if the play went faster than before it was due 
more to the eagerness of the substitutes than to 
Pryne ’s efforts. Those substitutes did themselves 
proud, even if they weren’t strong enough to score, 
and, although many fellows on the bench wished 
that Coach Driscoll had cared more about win- 
ning and less about developing substitute ma- 
terial, it was generally agreed that much credit 
was due the ‘‘rookies.” Before the quarter was 
ended Captain Peters was added to the retired 
list and Findley took his place. 

The third period ended with Phillipsburg mak- 
ing several changes, something she had refrained 
from doing before, and the ball in Parkinson’s 
possession on her twenty-nine yards where Skin- 


THE PHILLIPSBtJRG GAME 153 


ner had been downed after a punt. More changes 
were made. Trask went in for Kirkendall and 
Dean for Upton, at centre, and four other substi- 
tutes trotted nervously on. One of them was Dick. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE LAST QUABTEE 

PHHJ.IPSBUEG began that final period with all the 
confidence born of having held her enemy score- 
less through thirty-six minutes of play. She had 
replaced many of her first-string men, but her cap- 
tain was still in and so was the quarter-back who 
had started. On the Parkinson stand the audience 
was on its feet, imploring a touchdown. 

Dick had been through some trying moments 
during his brief football career at'‘Leonardville, 
but he had never felt quite so conspicuous, never 
so uncertain of himself, as when he trotted out and 
joined the group of brown-jerseyed players 
by the thirty-yard line. His heart was beating 
like a sledge-hammer and his palms were moist 
and there was a funny prickling sensation in his 
legs. Diffidence had seldom troubled him before, 
and he felt doubly awkward now for that reason. 
But there wasn’t much time for thought of his 
feelings, for he had hardly joined his team-mates 
when the whistle blew the end of the minute inter- 
mission. 


154 


THE LAST QUARTER 155 

Dick looked over his companions in the hack- 
field and wished that he knew more of them. 
Trask, in KirkendalPs position, was much the 
same sort of fellow in appearance as K. But he 
was lighter, and a good two years younger, Dick 
thought. Curtis was a good man and so was Skin- 
ner, but of the two Curtis’s style of play was bet- 
ter known to Dick. Gleason had been made acting 
captain, and it was the substitute guard who 
bent behind centre to whisper into the quarter’s 
ear. 

We’ve got to get Skinner loose. Bates,” said 
Gleason. ‘‘He’s the boy if he can get away.” 

“All right. Let’s start something, Parkinson! 
Signals!” 

When the ball came back from between Dean’s 
wide-spread legs, Dick whirled and tossed it to 
Skinner, and Skinner, rather heavily built but 
quick at starting and hard to stop, went hurtling 
into the opposing left guard and, with half the 
Parkinson team behind him, smashed his way 
through for six yards. Then came every indica- 
tion of a forward, with the left end edging out and 
showing nervous impatience and Dick dropping 
back eight yards behind centre and the half-backs 
watching the opposing ends. Back shot the ball to 
Dick, he made a pretence of throwing it to the 


156 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

left and turned Ms back to the line. Around swept 
Findley, the right end, and to Mm went the pigskin 
at a short, quick pass. The halfs fell into stride 
beside him and Dick sprang away to guard the 
rear. Four strides, six, and a sharp cry of ‘‘In! 
In ! ’ ’ The end dug a heel in the trampled sod and 
swung to the right. Straight toward the confusion 
of swaying bodies that had formed the two lines a 
moment before, he raced. Yet there was some 
method in the confusion, for Parkinson’s right 
end and one half had been drawn across the field 
on the false alarm and her tackle had been forced 
in. Back of the enemy line the secondary defence 
was rushing to the support of the forwards, but 
the interference cleaned the hole nicely and Find- 
ley shot through, dodged a tackle and was oft at 
a tangent, finding holes where there seemed none, 
racing diagonally toward the right side-line. The 
interference was gone now and he was on Ms own, 
but only the Parkinson quarter remained between 
him and the distant goal. Free of the melee, he 
swung down the field at the forty-yard line, a 
scant dozen feet from the boundary. 

Behind him came the pursuit, but Findley was 
Beet of foot and only the Phillipsburg quarter, 
coming fast yet cautiously down on him, caused 
him concern. The middle of the field was past 


THE LAST QUAETER 157 

now and he had gained another yard or two of 
elbow-room and the pursuers had not gained. 
Then came the supreme instant. The Phillip s- 
hurg quarter sprang with outstretched arms and 
Findley gave, turning and twisting, across two 
yards of the precious territory at his right. The 
quarter’s clutching fingers grasped, held for an 
instant, and Findley went staggering to one knee. 
Then he was up again, the quarter was rolling 
over on his hack, legs ludicrously in air, and a 
great shriek of triumph came across from the 
Parkinson stand. Findley was safe and hearing in 
toward the still distant goal, while, behind him, 
friend and foe pounded in pursuit. 

Dick had followed Findley through the line, had 
defeated one eager tackier and had gone sprawl- 
ing onto the turf. But he had been on his feet 
again an instant later and, skirting the struggling 
mass, had kept straight ahead down the field. He 
knew that he could not hope to reach Findley in 
time to aid him against the quarter-hack. His 
only chance of helping lay in being well down the 
field in case the runner got past the enemy quar- 
ter. None sought to stop him, for the play had 
followed the hall, and, while in the ruck of the 
pursuit friend and enemy went down and were 
strewn behind, Dick had had the centre of the grid- 


158 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

iron to himself, with Findley speeding along well 
ahead and to the right and the quarter-back cut- 
ting across to him. Then had come the runner’s 
clever escape and now he and Dick were converg- 
ing on the goal, the latter gaining a little as the 
white lines went slowly underfoot. Never was the 
foremost pursuer very far behind, but always, 
barring an accident, Findley seemed to have suffi- 
cient margin to win by. Yet, as the thirty-yard 
line was left behind, one Phillipsburg player be- 
came momentarily more dangerous. He had man- 
aged to avoid the Parkinson interferers and had 
worked himself well into the lead. He was tall 
and slight and a runner of no mean ability, and 
Dick, turning his head for a quick glance, read the 
menace. Findley was tiring slightly and running 
more slowly, head back, as Dick, edging further 
to the right, brought himself nearer to the path of 
the pursuit. 

Followed an anxious moment. Findley crossed 
the fifteen yards with Dick a scant six feet be- 
hind and the Phillipsburg man gaining on the run- 
ner at every stride. But to reach Findley the 
enemy would have to slip around Dick or topple 
him aside, and Dick knew it. The rest of the pur- 
suers, strung back half the length of the field, 
were no longer to be reckoned with. There was a 


THE LAST QUARTER 159 

thumping of swift feet at Dick^s side and he looked 
around into the set, intent face of the Phillipshurg 
player. The latter meant to swing past Dick and 
then, with a final hurst of speed, bring Findley 
to earth before the goal-line was reached. But 
Dick had other views. Slowing imperceptibly, he 
let the enemy run even, as he did so catching a 
questioning look from a pair of wide, straining 
eyes. Then he swung quickly to the right, shoul- 
ders hunched, and went sprawling over and over 
on the ground. And with him went the enemy. 
And staggering, almost falling, Findley, the pig- 
skin clutched tightly now to his stomach, crossed 
the last white line and sank gratefully to the 
turf. 

Somewhere, a great distance away as it seemed 
to him, there was a subdued roar that sounded 
like Findley! Findley! Findley !^^ 

Minutes later a nervous, anxious youth by name 
of Trask directed the pointing of a ball in the 
none too steady fingers of Dick, the latter lying 
on hip and elbow close to the twenty-yard line. 
So much depended on that goal that Trask had at 
first mutinously refused to attempt it and had only 
consented when convinced that no one else on the 
team dared even try. Trask was very deliberate 
and many times Dick’s hands moved this way or 


160 QUAJ^TER-BACK BATES 

that in obedience. Behind Trask the referee knelt 
on one knee with upraised hand. Then, when Dick 
thought that in just one more second he would 
have to yell, there came a firm, quiet ‘^Down!^^ 
from Trask, the referee’s hand dropped swiftly 
earthward, a brown object swung past Dick’s eyes 
and the ball was gone. Still poised on hip and 
elbow, Dick’s eyes followed the revolving oval. 
Very slowly it mounted upward, seemed to wobble 
uncertainly against the blue sky, veered errat- 
ically to the right as though making straight for 
a post and then began to fall. Dick’s heart sank 
like a leaden weight. Trask had kicked too short ! 
Then the ball suddenly went upward again as 
though struck from beneath and a din of cheers 
and shouts broke the long minutes of silence. 

‘^Struck the bar and went over!” someone 
shouted and Dick’s heart leaped upward again as 
swiftly as the ball had bounded from the cross- 
bar. The Phillipsburg players ended their leaping 
charge and with downcast faces walked past as 
Dick jumped to his feet. Someone thumped him 
tremendously on the back and almost sent him 
sprawling to earth again, and Trask’s voice 
howled hoarsely: ‘^Got to hold ’em now. Bates! 
Got to hold ’em, old man! It’s our game if we 
can hold ’em!” 


161 


THE LAST QUARTER 

“We^re going to!'’ answered Dick with a 
world of confidence in his voice. “We’re go- 
ing to hold ’em, Trask! It’s our day! Come 
on!” 

And hold them they did, although there were 
moments during the remaining nine or ten minutes 
when things looked dark indeed for the visitors. 
Phillipsburg hustled in new players and went hack 
at the enemy tooth and nail. A bewildering vari- 
ety of single and double and even triple passes 
were essayed. Some succeeded, most failed, but 
all were puzzling and unnerving to a team of 
third- and even fourth-string players, and that 
Parkinson managed to stave off defeat in that final 
quarter was scarcely less than a miracle. End 
runs got away and yet were stopped short of dis- 
aster, and always Dick clung to the ball to the 
last desperate moment before yielding it b^ a 
punt. Parkinson didn’t make the mistake of play- 
ing only for safety, for a purely defensive game 
kept up for a length of time takes the heart out 
of the defenders. When Parkinson got the ball 
she attacked as hard as ever, and some of the sub- 
stitutes won real laurels that afternoon. But at 
last the end came, after Phillipsburg had thrice 
won her way inside her opponent’s thirty yards 
and had once got to her fourteen, and eleven joy- 


162 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

ous, tired, breathless youths fell against each other 
and babbled incoherent congratulations. 

An hour later players and rooters mingled hap- 
pily on the home-bound train and in a corner of 
one car Dick and Stanley and Blash and Rusty 
crowded themselves in and over and around one 
seat designed for two persons and made merry. 
Dick’s merriment was less strenuous than that of 
the others, for that brief session had left him 
rather limp and tired. It had also, it appeared, 
left him somewhat of a hero to his friends, for 
Blash declared that only Dick’s interference had 
won the game. 

‘‘Findley’s run was a corker,” said Blash, “and 
he ought to have the Victoria Cross for it, but it 
wouldn’t have scored if you hadn’t been Johnny- 
on-the-Spot, Dick. Why, Lovering would have 
had Findley as sure as shooting! Of course, we 
might have smashed it over from the ten yards, 
and then again we might not have. I think we 
might not have. What saved the bacon for us was 
you bowling Lovering over, and don’t you forget 
it! The Victoria Cross for Findley and the Dis- 
tinguished Service Cross for you. I’ll order them 
at once.” 

“The gentleman is quite correct,” said Rusty, 
“although it isn’t a usual condition with him. 


163 


THE LAST QUAETEE 

And, look here, fellows, while weTe pinning bou- 
quets on, why not say a couple of kind words for 
the whole bloomin’ team that held those Phillips- 
burg guys innocuous — I believe that’s the word, 
Stan? — innocuous all through the last dreadful 
quarter? I ask you why not, and again I ask 
you ” 

‘‘Moved and carried,” droned Blash, “that the 
hearty thanks of the meeting be extended to the 
team. So ordered. There being no other busi- 
ness before the meeting, a motion to adjourn 
will ” 

‘.‘Move you, Mr. Chairman, that Stan be ap- 
pointed a committee of one to find the train-boy 
and buy much sweet chocolate. All in fa- 
vour ” 

“What with?” demanded Stanley sarcas- 
tically. “Seven cents? You borrowed every red 
I’d borrowed from Dick, Eusty. What did you 
do with it?” 

Eusty grinned, gulped and broke into chuckles. 
“I spent it, dear one,” he giggled. “And ’twas 
well-spent, believe thouest me! Listen and I’ll 
tell you — Hold on, though I Who buys the choco- 
late? Honest, I’m far too faint to narrate this 
moving tale. Have a heart, Blash!” 

“I’m busted, son. Honest ! ’ ’ 


164 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

Dick produced a few silver coins and some pen- 
nies. be tbe goat,’’ be said, ‘‘but someone 

else must do tbe buying. I wouldn’t stir from 
here for a thousand dollars ; even if I could, wbicb 
I can’t with Stan sitting on my shoulder.” 

“Give me tbe pelf,” volunteered Stanley, with 
a sigh. ‘ ‘ Wbicb way do I go ? ” 

“Forward,” advised Rusty. “I saw him going 
through ten minutes ago. Better burry, too, for 
be didn’t appear to be overstocked.” 

Stanley went wearily away along tbe crowded 
aisle and Blasb reminded Rusty of tbe tale. “Go 
on,” be said, “and let’s bear your criminal ad- 
ventures.” 

“Wait till Stan comes back. Don’t I tell you 
I’m faint from want of food? Besides, Stan’s go- 
ing to enjoy this yarn. Jumping Jebosopbat, I 
wish we were home and I was eating my supper ! 
Isn’t anyone else starved?” 

“We all are,” said Blasb, “only we don’t— 
don’t wear our stomachs on our sleeves !” 

Dick laughed and Rusty shook bis bead won- 
deringly. “Tbe kid is clever,” be murmured. 
“Ab, here be comes! Empty-handed, by jiminy! 
No, be bears succor! A-a-y, Gard! Sweet youth, 
I bid you welcome! Where’s mine? Wha-a-at? 
Only three cakes for all that money I supplied you 


THE LAST QUAETER 165 

witli? What do you know — Oh, well, I’ll try to 
worry along on this. Folks, that tastes good! 
Now then, lend me your ears and everything and 
I’ll narrate to you the story of The Careful 
Spender and the Helpful Friend.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


BUSTY BRINGS A FRIEND 

‘‘When I left you in the restarong/^ began 
Rusty, “I hied me forth in pursuit of a youth 
whose countenance I had spied through the win- 
dow, in short, none other than Sandy Halden, 
Sandy said he was looking for someone, I forget 
who, and I said I^d help him look. I believe in 
helping others whenever it isn’t too hard work.” 

“Why that pill, though?” asked Stanley. 
“Thought you had no use for Sandy.” 

“You’re quite wrong then,” answered Rusty 
earnestly. “To the eager and inquiring mind 
nothing is useless. Anyhow, you shut up and let 
me tell this. Sandy and I wandered through the 
metropolis side by each, admiring the soaring edi- 
fices and the homes of ease and luxury. And as 
we strolled, we talked. Maybe I talked more than 
Sandy did, but that’s neither here nor there. 
Among other things I said was this: ‘They’re 
charging fifty cents to see the game this after- 
noon, Sandy, and that’s too much. Not that I’m 
going to pay it, though. I’m going to see it for 
166 


BUSTY BEINGS A FKIEND 167 

nothing/ Of course that interested Sandy tre- 
menjously, for Sandy doesn’t mind spending 
money any more than a Scotsman i He wanted to 
know how I was going to do it; did I have a pass 
or what. ‘Don’t have to have a pass,’ I told 
him. ‘Maybe you’ve noticed that one of the dor- 
mitories is right close to the field? Well, if you 
happen to have a friend there whose room is on 
the back, you don’t have to spend your good 
money. You just sit in the window up there 
quite comfortably and look right down on the field. 
Of course, you’re not as close as you are in a 
stand, but you can see everything that goes on 
and you’re saving a big old half-dollar. And a 
half-dollar is a lot of money about the middle of 
the month !’ Sandy agreed cordially to that senti- 
ment and said he wished that he knew someone in 
one of those dormitories. I said, yes, it would 
be nice if he did, and looked at my watch, remark- 
ing that I mustn’t be late for my engagement. 
Then we happened on a candy store and I stopped 
and looked in the window and said something 
about the caramels looking nice. I could see 
Sandy struggling mentally and I kept on looking 
at the caramels. He tried to edge off, but I 
wouldn’t edge. So finally he said in a weak little 
voice that he guessed he’d get a few and we went in 


168 


QUABTER-BACK BATES 

and lie bought a quarter of a pound for fifteen 
cents. Then we strolled on and ate the caramels, 
and after a hit I said sort of thoughtfully: ‘Look 
here, Sandy, if you^d like to see the game with me 
I guess it would be all right. My friend is a 
mighty nice sort and I don’t think he’d mind if I 
brought you along.’ 

“What friend?” asked Dick, puzzled. 

“My friend in Wallack Hall,” replied Rusty, 
with a grin. “ Wallack ’s the dormitory that looks 
like a tomb and has ivy all over it.” 

“Oh,” said Dick uncertainly. Blash made a de- 
risive noise in his throat and Stanley chuckled. 

“Well, Sandy was that pleased! Gee, fellows, 
it does give one a fine feeling to give pleasure to 
others, doesn’t it? Sandy was quite affecting. 
He said I was mighty kind and he wouldn’t forget 
it and he ’d like awfully to meet my friend. So we 
came to a drug store about then and I said I was 
thirsty and Sandy insisted on buying sodas. By 
that time it was getting on toward two and I 
asked a fellow in the store how to get out to the 
school and he told me and we started out. I had 
to pay the car fares, for Sandy was looking out 
the window hard when the conductor came around. 
When we got out there I said we’d better walk 
around awhile and see the place, and we so did. 


169 


EUSTY BEINGS A FEIEND 

and when it was about time for the game to start 
I conducted Sandy to WaUack. ‘He may not be 
in yet,’ I said, ‘because he has a two o’clock recita- 
tion, but he said I was to make myself at home 
until he got back.’ So we climbed two flights of 
stairs and I went along looking at the numbers 
on the doors, telling Sandy I didn’t quite remem- 
ber which room it was. Sandy kept asking me 
what the fellow’s name was and reading the cards, 
but I put him oft until I found the room. Then 
I knocked, and, sure enough, Harold wasn’t in, but 
he’d left the door open and so we went on in. It 
was a bully room, with a lot of corking furniture 
and pictures and so on, and we looked around and 
waited for Harold to come back. You couldn’t see 
as much of the field as I’d expected, because the 
top of the grand stand cut off the nearer side of 
it, but it wasn’t bad, and I made Sandy take his 
coat off and sit down on the window-seat. He 
was very grateful, was Sandy. Doing things for 
him is a real pleasure, fellows!” And Eusty 
looked around the small circle of his audience with 
much feeling. Stanley was chuckling and Blash 
and Dick grinning broadly, and Eusty seemed sur- 
prised at their amusement. 

“Well, that’s about all there is to tell, except 
that presently Sandy called out that they were 


170 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

starting the game and I came over and looked out 
over his shoulder and saw that he was telling the 
truth. ‘Funny Harold doesnT show up/ I said, 
as concerned as anything. So I opened the door 
and looked up and down the corridor and there 
wasn’t anyone in sight and the building was 
awfully silent. ‘Guess I’ll go down to the en- 
trance, Sandy,’ I said, ‘ and see if I can see him. 
You sit tight.’ So Sandy said all right, he would, 
and that Phillipsburg had just kicked-off, and I 
went out and closed the door gently but firmly be- 
hind me, absent-mindedly turning the key in the 
lock, and went downstairs. Harold wasn’t in 
sight and so I went on around to the field.” 

“You locked Sandy in there?” exclaimed Stan- 
ley incredulously and joyfully. Rusty grinned 
and nodded. 

“I guess so. I didn’t try the door, but the key 
turned all right.” 

The others were fairly howling. “Wouldn’t I 
like to have been there when the owner of the 
room got back!” gasped Blash. ^‘What do you 
suppose Sandy told him?” 

“He told him the truth,” laughed Rusty, “but 
I don’t believe Summer believed him.” 

“Summer? Not that big left-guard of theirs?” 
cried Stanley. 


EUSTY BRINGS A FRIEND 171 

‘‘Yes, Harold Summer.’^ 

“Then — then you do know him?’’ 

“Only by reputation,” replied Rusty modestly. 
“I’ve never had the honour of meeting him.” 

“How’d you know where he roomed?” 

“Easy. Looked up the fellows on the team un- 
til I found a couple who roomed in Wallack. Half 
of them do room there, because it’s a sort of 
senior dormitory, I guess.” 

“Looked ’em up where?” demanded Dick. 

“In the scRool catalogue. There was a copy in 
the library. I forgot to say that we visited the 
library amongst other places of interest. I found 
one football chap lived in 17 Wallack and another 
in 28, and I knew that one of them must be on 
the back, and it turned out to be 17, and that was 
Harold’s dive.” 

‘ ‘ Summer ’s ? But, look here, seems to me Sum- 
mer ’s name is George,” said Stanley. “Where 
do you get this ‘Harold’ stuff?” 

“Had to call him something, and Harold 
sounded sort of convincing, sort of like what a 
Phillipsburg fellow would be called. Get me?” 

“Oh! Well, say, suppose Summer didn’t go 
back to his room until after supper or something! 
Have you seen Sandy since?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, he ’s aboard. I saw him in the station. 


172 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 

^ He didnT see me, though. I think he wants to. 
That^s one reason I wasn^t keen for going after 
the chocolate. Something tells me that Sandy has 
misconstrued my innocent efforts to_ save his 
money for him!’’ 

‘‘Gee, but I’ll bet he’s mad enough to bite a 
nail ! ’ ’ chuckled Stanley. ‘ ‘ Of all the crazy stunts. 
Rusty, that’s the craziest! How did you know 
Summer wouldn’t have a room-mate and that the 
room-mate wouldn’t be in when you got there?” 

‘ ‘ I didn ’t. I couldn ’t find that out without going 
through the whole catalogue, and there wasn’t 
time for that. If there ’d been anyone in when I 
knocked I’d have just asked for a fictitious name 
and backed out again. Anyway, I don’t see what 
Sandy has to be peeved about. He saw the game 
without paying a cent!” 

“Except for the caramels and soda,” laughed 
Blash. “I wish I could have been behind a door 
or some place when Summer walked in and found 
Sandy sitting there!” 

“Maybe Sandy got wise and got away before 
Summer came back,” suggested Stanley anxiously. 
But Rusty shook his head. ‘ ‘ He probably got wise, 
all right, but I’ll bet he didn’t get out! There 
was only one door and that was locked. There 
wasn’t any transom and the window was two 


EUSTY BEINGS A FEIEND 173 

stories up. And I don’t believe there was a soul 
in the building; every fellow was at the game. 

‘^How the dickens did you ever think of the 
scheme?” asked Stanley admiringly. Eusty 
shrugged modestly. 

^^Oh, it just sort of came to me. Like an in- 
spiration, you know. WeU, that settles one or 
two old scores between Sandy and me, I guess. 
I hope Summer didn’t beat him up, but still, if 
he did — ” Eusty shrugged again. “I should 
grow faint and be carried out!” 

Eusty, you’re a wonder!” said Blash earn- 
estly. ‘‘You’ll be hung if you live long enough; 
there’s no doubt about that: but in the mean- 
while you certainly do add to the joy of nations !” 

“What do you mean, hung?” demanded Eusty 
indignantly. “My record is as clean and my life 
as stainless — Oh, my sainted grandmother ! Here 
he comes! Hide me behind your stalwart frame,. 
Blash!” 

From the farther end of the swaying coach 
came Sandy Halden, gloom and wrath upon his 
brow, his gaze seeking his enemy. A few seats 
away his eyes fell on Eusty and they blazed in 
triumph. He shoved his way past an accumu- 
lation of suit-cases and^ faced his benefactor, his 
shock-hair standing up defiantly under the cap 


174 QUABTER-BACK BATES 

lie wore and his long nose twitching like a rab- 
bit’s. Rusty viewed him calmly. 

‘‘Hello, Sandy,” he greeted. “Great game, 
wasn’t it?” 

“A great game you put up on me!” sputtered 
Sandy. “I suppose you think you’re mighty 
smart, eh? You wait till I’m through with you, 
Crozier! I’ll make you wish you weren’t so 
blamed funny! I’ll show you what a real joke 

is! 1^11 

“There, there,” said Rusty, soothingly. 
“What’s your kick, Sandy? You saw the game 
all right, didn’t you? And you saved a whole 
half-dollar, didn’t you? What more do you want? 
By the way, I suppose you introduced yourself 
to Harold? Sorry I couldn’t stick around!” 

“He was all right, don’t you worry! I told 
him about you and he said a few things you ought 

to have heard! His name isn’t Harold ” 

“What? You don’t mean that we got into the 
wrong room!” exclaimed Rusty incredulously. 
“Wasn’t it Harold Jones’ room, Sandy?” 

“You know mighty well whose room it was!” 
answered the other indignantly. “That’s all 
right ! I ’ll get even with you ! I ’ll — ’ ’ 

“Oh, I am sorry!” declared Rusty miserably. 
“Such an awkward mistake to make. I don’t see 


EUSTY BEINGS A FEIEND 175 

how I could have been so stupid ! Whatever can 
I do to show my contrition, Sandy 

By this time most of the fellows within hear- 
ing were listening eagerly and amusedly, and it 
dawned on Sandy that he was making a mistake 
to advertise the joke. Never mind your contri- 
tion,’’ he growled in a lower voice, ‘‘I’ll fix you, 
Crozier. Don’t think you can get away with it.” 
His eyes swept the grinning or amused faces of 
Eusty’s companions. “You make me sick, any- 
way, the whole lot of you!” he added. “If I 
tell Jud what you ^d, Crozier, you won’t think 
it’s so funny!” With which veiled threat he 
swung angrily away and the car door crashed re- 
soundingly behind him. 

Blash and Stanley were somewhat sobered, but 
Eusty still beamed. “I wonder what Summer did 
say!” he chuckled. “I wish I knew!” 

“Look here,” said Stanley, “you don’t sup- 
pose he will go to Jud, do you? You know, Eusty, 
Jud’s a bit down on you!” 

“He won’t. He knows that if he did I’d beat 
him to a stiff froth! Anyhow, what of it? Jud 
will only appreciate my kindness of heart. It 
wasn’t really my fault if we stumbled into the 
wrong room.” 

“That won’t go with Jud,” said Blash, shak- 


176 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

ing liis head. Still, I donT believe Sandy will 
blab. Wbat say, Gus? Ob, be was sort of peeved 
over something that happened.’’ Blash turned to 
Gus Stone, who was leaning over the back of the 
seat. ^^You know how Sandy is. Thinks fellows 
are trying to put something over on him.” 

^‘What was it!” persisted Stone, smiling 
broadly in anticipation. 

Why, nothing much, really. It was all — a mis- 
take.” Blash looked as innocent as a new-born 
babe. ‘‘You see. Rusty offered to introduce 
Sandy to a friend of his at Phillipsburg whose 
room overlooked the football field so that Sandy 
wouldn’t have to pay to see the game, and by 
accident they got into the wrong room and Rusty 
went out to look for his friend and thoughtlessly 
locked the door behind him. Of course, when 
the fellow who lived there got back and found 
Sandy, he was surprised! And Sandy has got 
it into his head that Rusty put up a job on him. 
Which just shows, Gus, that even with the best 
intentions in the world you sometimes go wrong!” 

‘ ‘ W arne ! Warne ! ’ ’ called a trainman. ‘ ‘ Change 
for Sturgis, Bradfield, Seppit’s Mill and points 
on the Westfield Branch! Wa-a-ame!” 


CHAPTER XV 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 

Dick received his meed of praise for his part in 
securing Parkinson ^s victory over Phillipsburg, 
but naturally the greater credit went to Findley, 
as it should have. Dick found, however, on the 
following Monday that he had become of a little 
more importance on the gridiron. Billy Goode 
was most solicitous as to his condition and Coach 
Driscoll was a little bit ‘ ‘ fussy over him. He 
saw plenty of hard work, however, for Gus Stone 
and Cardin, together with several others, were 
excused from practice that afternoon. Dick and 
Pryne were kept busy and when the Second Team 
came over for a scrimmage it was Dick to whom 
fell the honour of generaling the First. The 
team made hard sledding that day, and the Sec- 
ond put over a touchdown and a safety in the 
first half and made her opponent hustle in the 
second half to win. The substitutes acted stale 
and were slower than cold molasses, to use 
Gaines’ metaphor, and oven Dick, who had cer- 
tainly not been overworked on Saturday, found it 
177 


178 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

hard to put snap into his play. Perhaps the 
weather had something to do with it, for the day 
was mild and misty and even the ball felt heavy. 

After practice Dick went back to the gymna- 
sium with lagging feet, paying little heed to the 
talk of the fellows about him. Somehow, noth- 
ing was vastly interesting today, and the thought 
of supper held no attraction. A cold shower 
braced him somewhat, however, and as it was 
still short of five o’clock — for practice had been 
slightly shorter than usual — he turned his steps 
back to the field where the Track Team candi- 
dates were still at work. The high hurdles were 
being set and Stanley and five other boys were 
waiting at the head of the straight-way. Dick 
spoke to several of the group and seated himself 
on a stone roller beside the cinders. Billy Goode 
was in charge and Billy called to Dick remon- 
stratingly. 

‘‘Bates, you oughtn’t to be sitting around here 
like that,” he said. “Put a sweater over your 
shoulders. Take one of those on the bench there.” 

“I’m as warm as toast, Billy,” answered Dick. 

“You do as I tell you,” said Billy in a very 
ferocious voice. And so Dick got up and crossed 
the track and picked up 4 sweater from among 
the half-dozen tossed on the bench. Stanley, over- 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 179 

hearing the colloquy, left his place near the start- 
ing line and joined Dick on the roller. ‘‘Hello, 
what are you doing here, Dick!’’ he asked. 

“Just came over to see you fellows at your 
play.” 

“Play, eh! Son, this isn’t play, this is har-r-rd 
work. I’ve done four sprints and I’ve got a kink 
in my calf — ” he rubbed his left leg ruefully— 
“and now Billy says we’ve got to do time-trials. 
How did football go!” 

“Rotten, I guess. The Second scored nine on 
us.” 

“What! For the love of Pete! What did you 
do!” 

“Oh, we got eleven, finally. But everyone was 
dopey today and Driscoll was peevish and no- 
body loved us. Who’s the elongated chap with 
the pipe-stem legs, Stan!” 

“Arends. He’s a corking hurdler, though the 
low’s his best game. The little chap. Mason, is 
good, too. Doesn’t look like a hurdler, does he! 
Well, here’s where I suffer. Wait around and 
I’ll go back with you.” 

“Maybe,” answered Dick, doubtfully. 

“Maybe! How do you get that way! You 
talk like an expiring clam! I’ll be back here in 
a minute, you chump.” 


180 QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

‘^All right. Go to it, Stan. Beat ’em, son!” 

‘^Beat ’em nothing! I tell yon I’ve got a kink 
in my left leg that’s no joke. Bnt I’ll do my best- 
est for yon, Dickie.” 

Stanley pranced back to the start and Dick 
watched while the first three, Stanley, Arends and 
another, got on the mark and awaited the pistol. 
There was one false start and then they were 
otf, three lithe, white-clad bodies, speeding down 
the straight-way over the cinders. Arends reached 
his first barrier a half stride ahead of his team- 
mates, skimmed above it with never an inch to 
spare, and took his stride again. Then the other 
two flashed np and down in nnison, and after 
that from Dick’s post of observation it was any- 
one’s race. Arends upset his fourth hurdle, and 
the third boy, whose name Dick didn’t know, had 
trouble with them all without knocking any down, 
and ultimately finished a good five yards behind 
the winners, for Stanley and Arends ran a dead- 
heat. While the other three hurdlers were pre- 
paring for their turn and Dick awaited Stanley, 
Sandy Halden arrived at the bench across the 
track and fumbled at the sweaters there. Dick 
noted the fact without interest. After a moment 
Sandy moved across to where Dick sat, and: 

‘‘That your sweater you’ve got?” he asked. 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 181 


‘‘What did you sayT’ asked Dick. 

“I said, is that your sweater you’re wearing?” 

“My sweater? Oh, this! No, I found it over 
there on the bench. Is it yours?” He untied 
the sleeves from around his neck and held it out. 

“It certainly is,” answered Sandy indignantly 
as he snatched it away. “And I’ll thank you to 
leave my things alone. Bates!” 

Now Dick happened to be in a poor sort of 
mood just then, and Sandy’s unreasonable dis- 
pleasure accorded illy with it. 

“If I’d known it was yours I wouldn’t have 
touched it with a ten-foot pole,” he replied an- 
grily, “much less worn it!” 

“Well, you did touch it, and you’d no busi- 
ness to. Wear your own things after this and 
let mine alone.” 

“Oh, ioY-get it!” cried Dick, jumping up impa- 
tiently. 

Perhaps Sandy misunderstood that move, for, 
dropping the sweater to the sod, he stepped for- 
ward and sent a blow straight at Dick’s face. The 
latter, seeing it coming, ducked at the last instant 
and thep, as Sandy followed the delivery, brought 
him up short with a blow on the chin. After that 
there was a merry scrap while it lasted, which 
wasn’t long, for Billy Goode, who had an instant 


182 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

before sent the hurdlers away, and several of the 
fellows about the starting line, dashed in between. 

^‘Here! Here! cried the trainer. ‘‘What do 
you boys think you’re doing? Behave now, the 
both of you! Suppose someone had seen you! 
Right here on the field! Are you crazy?” 

“He started it,” panted Sandy. 

“Never mind who started it,” replied Billy 
severely. “I’m stopping it. You beat it in, Hal- 
den. You’ve no business loafing around here any- 
way. Didn’t Jimmy tell you to go to the show- 
ers? You’d be better off somewhere else, too. 
Bates, and not coming around here starting ruc- 
tions!” 

“I didn’t start any,” growled Dick. “He tried 
to slam me one and I gave it back to him.” Then, 
wiping his knuckles on his trousers, to the detri- 
ment of that garment, he managed a grin. “I’m 
sorry, Billy,” he said. “Maybe it was my fault, 
although I didn’t hit first.” 

“Well,” grumbled the trainer, mollified a trifle, 
“don’t take chances like that again. It’s my 
duty to report the both of you, but maybe I’ll 
forget it if I don’t see you around. - ' 

Sandy Halden had already gone off and now 
Stanley arrived, his eyes round with curiosity, 
and hauled Dick away in his wake. “What the 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 183 
dickens was the matter P’ he demanded. ‘‘First 
thing I saw was you and Stanley dancing around 
like a couple of trained bears. I thought it was 
fun until I saw you land one. What did he do?’’ 

Dick thought a moment. “Nothing, I guess. 
Nothing much, anyway. He found me wearing 
his sweater over my shoulders and told me to 
leave his things alon:^ and I lost my temper and 
got up to go away, and I guess he thought I was 
going at him and tried to land on my nose.” 

“Hm, looks as if he’d landed on your cheek,” 
said Stanley. “Hope you didn’t let him get away 
with that.” 

“I don’t think so, not from the way my hand 
aches,” responded Dick grimly. “I suppose if 
Billy told faculty I’d get the dickens, eh?” 

“You would, my misguided friend. You’d get 
about a month’s probation. But Billy won’t tell. 
He’s never told anything yet, and he’s had lots 
of chances. If you have to scrap here, Dick, go 
over to the brickyard. That’s where all the best 
things are pulled off. It’s funny about that, too,” 
continued Stanley musingly. “Faculty usually 
knows what’s going on, but in my time there have 
been at least two dozen fights in the brickyard 
and nothing’s ever been said or done about them. 
Looks as if Jud sort of winked at if, doesn’t it? 


184 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

•Maybe he has a hunch that a square fight is the 
best medicine sometimes.’’ 

‘^Well, if Sandy wants to go on with it I’ll meet 
him there.” 

Sandy? Oh, he won’t, I guess. He likes to 
scrap sometimes, but he’s most all bluster. Gruess 
he ’s the sort that has to get good and mad before 
he can get his courage up. I’ll doctor that face 
of yours before we go to supper so Cooper or 
Wolan won’t ask embarrassing questions. Coop- 
er’s a hound for scenting scraps. Not that 
he’d do anything, though, except look wise 
and say, ‘ Hm, you don’t tell me. Bates? Most 
int ’sting!’ ” 

Dick laughed at Stanley’s mimicry of the 
instructor’s pronunciation. like Cooper, 

though,” he said. ‘‘And I don’t like Wolan.” 

“Nobody does — except Wolan! By the way, I 
told Bob Peters I’d come around tonight and 
bring you along. He’s giving a soiree.” 

“A — a what?” asked Dick as they entered the 
dormitory. 

“A soiree,” laughed Stanley. “That means 
eats, son. Bob’s soirees are famous. He’s got 
an uncle or something in the hotel business in 
Springfield — or maybe it’s Hartford: somewhere, 
anyhow— who sends him a box of chow about 


CAPTAIN PETEES ENTERTAINS 185 

every two or three months. Then Bob invites 
a crowd in and there’s a feast.” 

‘^Sure he asked me along*?” 

^‘Absotiv^y! He was quite particular about 
you. ‘Be sure and fetch Bates,’ he said. So, 
if you know your business, you’ll go light on sup- 
per.” 

‘ ‘ I shall anyway, ’ ’ replied Dick. “I’m not hun- 
gry — mueh. Say, if you show any chance of mak- 
ing the team in earnest, Stan, they take you on 
one of the training tables, don’t they?” 

“Yes, of course, but that needn’t worry you. 
Some fellows don’t get on until the season’s half 
over. ’ ’ 

“It’s half over now,” said Dick thoughtfully. 
“There are only four more games.” 

“Is that right? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised 
if we lost your charming society very soon, Dick. 
Now let’s have a look at the — er — abrasions. Say^ 
he certainly handed you something, didn’t he? 
Good it didn’t land a couple of inches further 
to the left. If it had it would have closed one 
of your cute little peepers. Wait till I get some 
water and stutf. Did you see a bottle of witch- 
hazel — I’ve got it! I’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

Dick critically observed his countenance dur- 
ing Stanley’s trip to the lavatory. There was 


186 QUAETER-BACK BATES 
a fine big lump over tbe right cheek-bone that 
made him look curiously lop-sided. He heartily 
wished he had kept his temper. The swelling 
would be there until morning at least and it 
wouldnT require a giant intellect to guess the 
reason for it. Of course, he could say he had 
done it in football, only if he had got the con- 
tusion in that way Billy (joode or one of the assist- 
ants would have had it dressed with arnica long 
ago. Stanley came back with a mug of water 
and administered quite professionally, and a few 
minutes later Dick went across to supper redolent 
of witchhazel and very puffy as to his right cheek. 
Facetious remarks were many and Dick’s unsmil- 
ing explanation that he had “got it on the field” 
didn’t appear to deceive any of his table com- 
panions. The subsequent sight of Sandy Halden 
with a roseate blush around his right eye some- 
what consoled Dick. By morning the rosey tinge 
would have changed to green and yellow, shading 
to purple. 

There were eight fellows in Bob Peters’ room 
in Leonard Hall when Dick and Stanley arrived, 
and the eight didn’t include the host himself, for, 
as Sid Crocker explained. Bob had gone to the 
village to get some lemons. Dick met three or 
four fellows not previously known to him, one of 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 187 

tHem the spindle-shanked Arends he had noticed 
on the track earlier. At intervals other fellows 
arrived and, before Bob Peters returned, the two 
rooms, for Bob shared a study and bedroom with 
‘‘Babe^’ Upton, were filled almost to capacity. 
Leonard was the newest of the Parkinson dormi- 
tories and, in comparison with such as Williams 
and Goss, was most luxurious. There was a real, 
‘‘sure-enough^^ fireplace in the big study and in 
it this evening a cannel-coal fire was burning in 
spite of the fact that the windows were open. A 
folding card-table was set against the wall and 
a blue-and-white checked cloth hid enticing mys- 
teries. Jerry Wendell aroused laughter by edg- 
ing up to the table and with elaborate careless- 
ness lifting a comer of the cloth. What he saw, 
however, he refused to divulge. Presently, into 
a babel of talk and laughter, hurried Bob with 
a bag of lemons. 

“Hello, everybody!’’ he shouted. “Glad to see 
you. Babe, stick these on the bed in there. I 
bought a knife, too. Catch! How many lemons 
does one need for a dozen cans of sardines, Sid? 
I got two dozen. That ought to do, what?” 

“ I ’d say so, ” laughed Sid. ‘ ‘ What ’s your idea ? 
Serve a sardine on every lemon? A half-dozen 
would have been enough, you chumip.” 


188 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

“Would? Well, I asked the Greek at the fruit 
store and he said two dozen. I thought maybe he 
was deceiving me. Hello, Fat!’’ 

Arends smiled genially at the ironic appellation 
and hunched his elongated person into a smaller 
compass on the window-seat to make room for 
new arrivals. Most of the fellows there were 
football players, and all, it seemed, were con- 
nected with some sport. Sid, beside whom Dick 
found a seat on a leather couch, pointed out sev- 
eral celebrities : Colgan, the hockey star; Cheever, 
Parkinson’s crack two-miler, who also did satis- 
factory stunts with the hammer ; Lewis, the tall 
and keen-eyed first baseman, and one or two more. 
Everyone’s mood appeared to be peculiarly happy, 
even flippant, and if football or baseball or any 
other form of “shop” was mentioned someone 
immediately howled the speaker down. Two or 
three of the guests had brought musical instru- 
ments and soon there came the sound of tuning 
and then someone began to hum under the babel 
of talk and someone else joined, and presently 
conversation had ceased and everyone was sing- 
ing. Between songs the talk went on. Bob de- 
manded “How We Love Our Faculty” and the 
elongated Arends obediently stood up and was 
joined by a short, plump and red-cheeked youth 



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CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 189 
with a guitar. Arends was preternaturally sol- 
emn and the plump chap who pressed against him 
and looked up into his face as he strummed the 
strings had the expression of a melancholy owl. 
Everyone ceased talking and waited, smiling 
broadly. The plump youth struck a chord and 
Arends began in a whining voice: 


'^There’s old Jud Lane, our Principal, 

You know him? We know him! 

He is a dear old, grand old pal. 

You know him? We know him! 

I hope no harm will e’er befall 
This dear old, grand old Principal, 

And if into the drink he’d fall 
We’d pull him out, one and all. 

Now would we? Well, would we?” 

The responses~were made in chorus by the rest 
of the crowd, and the final ‘‘Well, would we?” 
had a peculiar suggestion of sarcasm ! Then came 
the refrain, measured and sonorous: 

“Oh, how we love our Faculty, our Faculty, our 
Faculty ! 

Oh, how we love our Faculty ! 

(Ensued a silence in which Dick saw every 
mouth forming words that were not uttered, and 


190 QUARTEE-BACK BATES 
then a final outburst, long-drawn-out, like a sol- 
emn benediction:) 

Our Pae-ul-ty!^^ 

More verses followed in which various lesser 
lights were celebrated, and through it all Arends 
preserved his solemn countenance and the accom- 
panist gazed soulfuUy up into it. Everyone 
seemed to enjoy the song immensely. Dick, by 
watching Sid’s lips, discovered that the unuttered 
sentiment was ‘‘We hope the blame things choke !” 

Then “Babe” Upton twanged a banjo and im- 
provised the verses of a song whose refrain ran: 

“Up and down and all around, that’s the way we find 
’em! 

Two for five and three for ten, and here’s a string to 
bind ’em!” 

Dick thought Babe’s faculty for making rhymes 
quite marvelous until he noticed that he used only 
three or four in the course of a dozen verses. Be- 
fore he had finished, half of those present had 
been sung about. The verses weren’t remarkable 
for sense of rhythm, but they always won laughter 
and applause. Cheever came in for the follow- 
ing: 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 191 


^'Here’s big Jim Cheever, looking fine. 

He always does when he’s out to dine. 

You couldn’t keep Jim away tp-night, • 

For he’s right there with his appetite! ” 

And even Dick didnT escape, for Babe turned 
his grinning face toward the couch and twanged 
the strings and sang: 

“A fellow named Bates is here to-night 
And his face it is an awful sight! 

Maybe he fell against the wall, 

But I’ll bet he didn’t get it a-playing football!” 

*^Up and down and all around, that’s the way we find 
’em! 

Two for five and three for ten, and here’s a string to 
bind ’em!” 

Jerry Wendell gave imitations, one of Mr. Ad- 
dicks, the Greek and Latin instructor, being espe- 
cially clever. Wendell leaned over the back of 
a chair and drew his face into long lines. ‘‘Young 
gentlemen, ’ ’ he began in a slow, precise and kindly 
voice, “the trees are budding this beautiful morn- 
ing and the little birds are chirping to one an- 
other and there a feeling of spring in the air. 
You may have noticed it, young gentlemen? As 
Juvenal so poetically phrases it, ‘ Sic transit gloria 
mundi, Veluti in speculum Sunday.’ Are there 


192 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

any amongst you this bright morning who know 
who Juvenal was? Is there one? No, I feared 
as much. Warden, would it inconvenience you 
to open your eyes and give me your attention? 
Ah, I thank you. Yes, young gentlemen, spring 
is upon us. Especially is it upon you. I have 
but to gaze on your rapt, intelligent countenances, 
your bright and eager faces, to realize how thor- 
oughly you are imbued with the Spirit of the 
Spring. If Townsend will drag his legs out of the 
aisle — I thank you. Spring is a wonderful sea- 
son, young gentlemen, a beautiful season, the ver- 
nal equinox, as a poet has so well phrased it. The 
Greeks, as you doubtless recall, celebrated the 
coming of spring with appropriate observances. 
And yet it may be that the fact has escaped many 
of you. A pity, a great pity! Suppose, there- 
fore, that you refresh your memories on the sub- 
ject and be prepared tomorrow to tell me in what 
way the Greeks welcomed the advent of spring. 
And we will have tomorrow what the spring has 
prevented us from having today, and also the 
next two pages. Young gentlemen, the class is 
dismissed. Will some one of you kindly awaken 
Peters as you pass out?’^ 

Then the host flicked away the cloth from the ’ 
table and there was an outburst of applause for 


CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 193 

what lay revealed. Sandwiches of many sorts, 
potted delections, cakes and pastries, biscuits and 
cheese and much gingerale. After that came a 
half-hour of earnest endeavour on the part of 
each and every one to ruin digestion, with Boh 
maintaining a sharp and yet lenient watch on the 
football fellows, to whom pastry was taboo. Bob ’s 
soiree’’ ended in a final burst of song that 
brought an apologetic warning from a proctor. 
Afterwards Dick and Stanley walked across to 
Sohmer humming the tune of Babe’s absurd jin- 
gle, Stanley breaking into words as they climbed 
the dormitory stairs: 

‘TVe got a lot of math to do, 

But I don’t think I will; would you? 

I’m so full of cake and pie 
I’d rather just lie down and die!” 


CHAPTER XYI 


MB. BATES PROTESTS 

That party in Captain Peters’ room has no bear- 
ing on the story save that it seemed to Dick to 
mark the beginning of a closer intimacy with the 
football crowd. He heard himself alluded to as 
Dick Bates, instead of Bates, and from that to 
Dick was a matter of only a few days. And there 
were other signs, too; as when, during practice 
on Wednesday, Kirkendall, relieved by Trask in 
the scrimmage, sank into the bench at Dick’s side, 
gave his knee a mighty and somewhat painful 
thump, grinned and relapsed into silence. Had 
spoken Dick wouldn’t have thought so much 
of it. The fact that the big full-back considered 
words unnecessary meant so much more. 

There were some mighty sessions of work that 
week, for Coach Driscoll was smoothing out the 
First Team attack, adding a new play now and 
then, shifting his players experimentally and drill- 
ing, drilling, drilling until Dick sometimes awoke 
at night with the cry of ‘'Signals!^’ in his ears. 
He had his full share of quarter-back work with 

194 


ME. BATES PROTESTS 195 

B Squad and worked as hard and intelligently 
as he knew how. Such work was different at 
Parkinson than at Leonardville High. At the lat- 
ter place playing quarter meant developing in- 
dividual ability first and letting team-work look 
after itself in a measure. Here at Parkinson 
one was ground and filed and fitted into the eleven 
much as a machine part is fitted into the assem- 
bled whole, and one was a unit of the team first 
and an individual last. At first Dick had been 
disappointed over a reality so different from his 
secret expectations. Although he had openly pro- 
fessed humility and had told the fellows at Leon- 
ardville that he might not count for much in a 
football way at a school as large as Parkinson, 
yet he had never greatly doubted that his advent 
would be a matter of importance to the school, 
nor that he would find the path to glory broad 
and easy. He had outlived the surprise and dis- 
appointment, however, and was ready to defend 
the Parkinson system with his last breath, a sys- 
tem that played no favourites and judged only by 
results. 

Parkinson played the local high school the fol- 
lowing Saturday. Wame was a hard-fighting but 
light team and the game was one-sided from the 
start. Dick, rather to his surprise, was trotted 


196 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

on in the middle of the second quarter, when 
Stone was slightly hurt in a flying tackle, and 
stayed in until the last period began. He ran 
the team well and handled several difficult punts 
in a clever manner, but he had no opportunity to 
distinguish himself, nor did he seek one. Over- 
anxiety on one occasion led him into a wretched 
fumble under Warne’s goal and once he got his 
signals so badly jumbled that Bob Peters had to 
come to his rescue. But the fumble led to 
no disaster and the mixed signals signified 
little. 

Parkinson rolled up a total of thirty-three points 
in forty-eight minutes of playing time and man- 
aged to keep High School at bay until, in the 
final few moments, with a substitute line in. High 
School, having worked down to Parkinson’s thirty- 
four .on a forward-pass, dropped a really remark- 
able goal from about the forty yards. ^To be sure, 
there was a strong wind blowing almost straight 
with the ball, but even so the kick was as neat 
a one as had been seen on Parkinson Field that 
season and none begrudged the frantic delight that 
the visitors obtained from those three points. In 
fact, Parkinson applauded quite as heartily as 
did the High School rooters. 

On Monday occurred a momentous event in 


MR. BATES PROTESTS 197 

Dick’s estimation. He was taken to the training 
table. 

Being taken to the training table perhaps did 
not signify so much in itself, for the table was 
in reality two tables, each holding from twelve 
to fourteen, and one might spend a football sea- 
son at one of them without winning his letter in 
either of the two games that counted. Chancellor 
and Kenwood. But when one was snatched, so 
to say, from obscurity to the training table in 
the middle of the season one had a right to be 
a little elated and to cherish expectations. So, 
at least, Dick thought, and so Stanley declared. 

‘‘You’re certain of playing part of the time in 
the Kenwood game, Dick,” said Stanley. “Stone 
is the only fellow you’ve got to be scared of, and 
he isn’t going to last the game through. Cardin 
is no better than you are now and I miss my guess 
if you don’t come faster the rest of the season 
than he does. And Pryne’s only so-so. As I 
figure it out, you and Cardin are just about tied 
for second choice quarter, and all you’ve got to 
do is work like the dickens to beat him.” 

“Sounds easy the way you tell it,” laughed 
Dick. “For that matter, all I’ve got to do is 
to work like the dickens to cop a scholarship!” 

“Not at all. ‘Copping’ a scholarship, as you 


198 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

so vulgarly phrase it, requires a certain amount 
of grey matter in the garret. Winning a posi- 
tion on a football team is merely a matter of physi- 
cal effort. No brains are necessary, my son. 
Therefore, I back you against the field to get the 
quarter-back job!^’ 

‘‘Thank you for nothing! At least, it requires 
more brains to play football well then it does to 
jump over a lot of silly hurdles!’^ 

“There speaks ignorance,’’ retored Stanley in 
a superior and pitying tone. “There are just 
three fairly decent hurdlers in this school, Dickie, 
and there are at least half a hundred fairly decent 
football players. Q.E.D.” 

“Q.E. rot!” said Dick. “Anyone with skinny 
legs and a pair of spiked shoes can jump fences, 
you old swell-head! Besides, you don’t jump ’em 
half the time: you just knock ’em over and get 
tangled up in ’em. You track boys are a lot of 
nuts, anyway.” 

“Before you say something that I’ll have to re- 
sent, Dick, I will change the subject for your 
sake.” 

“ Ha I ” grunted Dick derisively. ‘ ‘ That ’s what 
everyone does when the argument goes against 
them. Say, what’s Sandy Halden doing with you 
fellows, Stan?” 


MR. BATES PROTESTS 


199 


‘‘He was trying to be a balf-miler last I knew, 
but I saw him over with the jumpers Friday. You 
and he made up yet ? ’ ’ 

“I haven’t even seen him, except to pass him 
in Parkinson. I guess, by the way, Billy didn’t 
report that little mix-up last week.” 

“I knew he wouldn’t. Billy’s all right: even if 
he did tell me this afternoon that I took-off like 
a steam-roller!” 

“He’s very discerning,” murmured Dick. 

Stanley shied a whisk-broom at him, and in the 
subsequent fracas conversation languished. 

Dick started at training table that evening and 
found himself assigned to a seat at the substi- 
tute’s board between Pryne and Bartlett, a 
second-string guard. At the other table Coach 
Driscoll presided, with Captain Bob facing him 
at the farther end. At Dick’s table Steams Whip- 
ple, the manager, occupied the head. No one paid 
any special attention to the newcomer as he took 
his seat, although several smiled in a friendly way 
and Pryne seemed glad to see him. Fellows had 
a way of appearing suddenly at that table and 
disappearing suddenly as well, and so a new face 
occasioned little interest. Stanley had cheerfully, 
almost gleefully, predicted that Dick would starve 
to death at training table, and consequently Dick 


200 QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

was somewhat relieved to find the danger appar- 
ently very remote. There was less to choose from, 
and certain things that Dick was fond of, such 
as pie and frosted cake, were noticeably absent, 
but there was plenty of food nevertheless. To 
make up for the pastry, there was ice-cream three 
times a week instead of once, with a single rather 
dry lady-finger tucked under the saucer. Steak 
and chops and underdone beef and lamb formed 
the basis of the meals, and with those viands went 
a rather limited variety of vegetables. Eggs were 
served at breakfast in lightly cooked condition 
and milk was the regular three-times-a-day bever- 
age to the exclusion of coffee and tea. 

It was on Thursday that Dick returned from 
a hard practice to find a letter from his father 
awaiting him. Mr. Bates wrote regularly each 
week, usually on Sunday, so that his letter arrived 
at school Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. 
The present epistle was an extra one and Dick 
opened it with some curiosity. When he had 
read it through he was alternately smiling and 
frowning. It wasnT long, but it was emphatic. 

“Dear Dick: 

“Every time I take up the Sentmel these days I 
find a piece about you in it. How you did some- 


ME. BATES PROTESTS 201 

thing or other in a football game and how proud 
the town is of you. What I want to know is, do 
you do anything at that school hut play foot- 
ball. I’m getting right-down tired of reading 
about you. I sent you there to study and learn 
things and get a good education and not to play 
football and get your name in the papers all the 
time like a prize-fighter. You buckle down and 
attend to your work for a spell, that’s my advice 
to you. If I keep on seeing where you’ve made 
a home run or whatever it is I’m going to yank 
you out of there plaguey quick. Folks keep ask- 
ing me have I seen where you did so and so and 
ain’t I proud of you, and I tell them No, I ain’t 
a blame bit proud, because I didn’t send you to 
school to play games, but to make a man of your- 
self. I hope you are well, as I am at the present 
writing. ‘‘Your afP. father, 

“Henry L. Bates.” 

Dick read that letter to Stanley and Stanley 
chuckled a good deal over it. “Of course he is 
proud of you, just the same, Dick,” he said. “But 
I dare say there’s something to be said for his 
point of view. You’ll have to convince him that 
you’re doing a bit of studying now and then on 
the side, ehf” 


202 


QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

‘‘I suppose so. But he ought to know that if 
I wasn’t keeping my end up in class I’d he hiking 
home mighty quick! Maybe I ought to work 
harder, Stan, and let football alone, but, gee, 
a fellow’s got to do something besides 
study!” 

Can’t you persuade the editor of that home 
paper of yburs to let up on you for awhile ? How 
do you do it, anyway? Nobody in my home ever 
sees my doings in print. Grot a drag with the 
editor, or what?” 

^Ht’s the High School Argus/^ responded Dick 
a trifle sheepishly. ‘‘The fellows that run it got 
The Leader here to exchange with them and they 
print everything about me they see in The Leader^ 
Of course that isn’t much: just the accounts of 
the games : but the Argus fellows work it up and 
then the Sentinel copies it. I — I wish they 
wouldn’t.” 

“Do you?” Stanley grinned wickedly. “Yes, 
you do! You’re tickled to death! So would I 
be, Dickie. Tell you what: you sit down and write 
a nice letter to your dad and tell him the facts 
and make him understand that playing football 
doesn’t incapacitate you for occasional attention 
to studies. Or you might write a little piece about 
how you stood highest in your class last month, 


ME. BATES PEOTESTS 203 

and how teacher gave you a big red apple for it, 
and send it to the town paper. That would please 
your dad, wouldn’t it? And how about mention- 
ing that you’ve made the Banjo and Mandolin 
Club! Think that would help any?” 

“ You go to the dickens, ’ ’ grumbled Dick. ‘ ‘ The 
trouble is, dad’s easy-going as you like until he 
gets his back up. Then you can’t argue with him 
at all. He will do just as he says he will unless 
I make him understand that I’m working as well 
as playing. If,” he added ruefully, ^^he learned 
about the Banjo and Mandolin Club he’d prob- 
ably send me a ticket home!” 

‘‘But you played football when you were in 
high school, didn’t you? And did track work? 
And was on the Glee Club, or whatever the fear- 
ful thing was called?” 

“Yes, but I suppose I was sort of under dad’s 
eye and he knew that I was getting along all right 
in school. Being away off here, he sort of thinks 
I’m being purely ornamental!” 

“I don’t see how he could think you ornamen- 
tal,” said Stanley soothingly. “Hasn’t he ever 
seen you?” 

“It’s all well enough for you to joke,” replied 
Dick, grinning half-heartedly, “but you don’t know 
my dad.” 


204* QUARTER-BACK BATES 

‘^Tell you what! Let me write and tell him’ 
what a whale you are in class room. After he’d 
read what I’d written he’d send you a letter of 
apology, Dickie ! I can see it now. ^ My dear son, 
can you forgive me for my unjust and unworthy 
doubts? Your — er — ^your estimable companion, 
Mr. Card, has written me the truth and I see now 
how terribly I misjudged you. It makes me ex- 
tremely happy to know — to know that you have 
Mr. Card as a friend. He is, as I discern, a young 
gentleman of great — er — ^mental attainment and 
>> 

^^Oh, shut up!” laughed Dick. ‘‘You’d joke at 
a funeral!” 

“Not at my own, anyway! Well, cheer up, old 
top, and hope for the worst. Then you’ll get the 
best. If your father refuses to finance you I’ll 
take up a collection and your loving friendsi 
will see you through ; at least, to the end 
of the football season!” And Stanley chuckled 
enjoyably. 

Of course Dick answered that letter immediately 
and spent the better part of an hour and much 
ink trying to convince his father that in spite 
of the evidence he was doing his full duty. Per- 
haps he had secret qualms even as he wrote, 
though, for it is a fact that from that day forth 


ME. BATES PROTESTS 205 

he managed another hour of study, by hook or 
by crook, and perceptibly improved his standing 
in various classes. And finding time for more 
study was less easy than it sounds, for the day 
following his appearance at training table found 
him accepted by coach and players as the second- 
choice quarter-back, and if he had thought he 
knew what hard work in practice meant he now 
saw his mistake. For he was added to the select 
coterie who remained on the field three or four 
afternoons a week after the others had been dis- 
missed and who were drilled in punting and catch- 
ing until their legs ached and they saw a dozen 
footballs where there was but one. 

Guy Stone’s attitude toward Dick was peculiar, 
or so Dick thought. He appeared to miss no op- 
portunity to chat with him and was very friendly, 
but afterwards, thinking Stone’s conversation 
over, Dick invariably found that the first-string 
quarter had seemingly sought to instill self- 
doubting and discouragement in his possible sub- 
stitute. One short conversation will do as an illus- 
tration. 

see you take the snap-back almost facing 
centre,” said Stone when they were on their way 
to the gymnasium after a hard practice. Think 
you can work faster that way?” 


206 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

^‘No, but I feel surer of the pass/’ answered 
Dick. you think I ought to stand more side- 
wise?” 

Stone looked doubtful. don’t know. Of 
course, Dick, if you face your backs more you don’t 
have to turn so far when you continue the pass. 
It’s well to have the ball travel from centre to 
runner on^s straight a line as possible, you know. 
If you take it so, and then have to turn like this 
before you shoot it at the runner, you’re losing 
time, aren’t you?” 

‘‘Why, yes, but only a fraction of a second, I’d 
say. I do it that way because I can see the ball 
better from the time centre starts the pass until 
it’s in my hands. Wlien I turn I just slip my 
right foot around a few inches and swing on my 
left. But if it’s better to stand sidewise to the 
line ” 

“Oh, I’m nbt~suggesting that you change now,” 
protested Stone. “It’s always dangerous to 
change your style of doing a thing as late in the 
season as this. If you’d started earlier — but then 
you may be right about it. You’re the doctor, 
Dick. If you can do it better the way you are 
doing it, I say keep on. Of course, in a real game 
you’ll probably find sometime that your back 
isn’t where you expect him and there’ll be a mix- 


MR. BATES PROTESTS 


207 


up, because when you’re excited you do funny 
things. Take Gaines, now. He has a great way 
of trying to beat the ball and goes loping away 
from position before you’re ready to toss to him. 
That means he has to slow up or lose the pass. 
If you stand so you can see your backs as the 
ball comes to you you know how to act. Of course, 
when the pass is to the back direct, mistakes like 
that can’t happen often, but Driscoll doesn’t fancy 
the direct pass much.” 

^^Then you don’t think my way is correct and 
you don’t think I ought to change it,” said Dick, 
puzzled. ‘‘Mr. Driscoll has never said anything 
about it being wrong.” 

“My dear fellow, I’m not saying it’s wrong, 
either, am I? I think there’s a natural way for 
everyone to do a thing, and that’s your natural 
way. And I guess it wouldn’t be wise to try to 
change now. All I do say is that you’re likely 
to wish you had changed it some old day. But 
I wouldn’t worry about it. I dare say you’ll mud- 
dle through all right.” 

When Dick mentioned the talk to Stanley the 
latter laughed. 

“Forget it, Dick,” he said. “Stone’s worried 
for fear you may beat him out for the place. 
Haven’t you any gumption?” 


208 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

‘^Beat him!’’ Dick exclaimed. ‘^That’s likely, 
I don’t think!” 

‘^Well, convince him that it isn’t likely, and 
you’ll find that he will stop talking that way. 
Can’t you understand that if he can get you wor- 
ried enough you’ll fall oif in your playing? He 
isn’t afraid of Cardin, evidently, but he is of 
you.” 

‘^Do you think so?” asked Dick thoughtfully. 

Maybe that’s it, then. Just the same, there isn’t 
a chance that I’ll beat him. I do think I’m doing 
better work than Cardin, but Stone has it all over 
me.” 

‘^Now, yes, but maybe he thinks you’ll keep on 
coming. How does Cardin take it, by the way?” 

‘‘Cardin? Oh, he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s 
an awfully nice chap, Cardin.” 

“Yes, he is. But don’t fool yourself into think- 
ing he doesn’t care, Dick. It’s just he’s too de- 
cent to let you see it. He’s a good loser; and 
there aren’t many of that sort. I hope, whatever 
happens, he’ll get his letter.” 

“Oh, so do I!” agreed Dick earnestly. “I do 
like Cardin!” 


CHAPTER XVn 


IN CONFERENCE 

wish/^ said Blash one evening, ‘‘that some- 
one wonld invent a new sport.’^ 

“What for?’’ asked Sid. “Thinking of taking 
a little exercise? Ever try checkers, Blash 1 
That’s about your style of a game.” 

“Cease your idle chatter,” answered his room- 
mate with dignity. “I’m not thinking of myself. 
I’m thinking of Sandy Halden. Sandy is out of 
a job again. They let him go from the Track 
Team today. Billy Goode thinks the school can 
worry along through the year without him as a 
jumper or half-miler or shot-putter. Of course, 
Billy’s probably mistaken, but there it is.” 

“Just what was Sandy? A shot-putter or one 
of the other things you mentioned?” Sid laid 
down his pencil and tipped back squeakingly in 
his chair. It was study hour in Number 27 Goss, 
but Blash wasn’t in a studious mood. 

“George Keene says he was broad-jumping the 
last thing. He’d tried running, and maybe every- 
thing else for aU I know, and had got Billy to 

209 


210 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 

let Mm try jumping. TMs afternoon, Keene says, 
Sandy managed a perfectly marvellous jump of 
eighteen feet or something and then claimed that 
Holla way, who had the tape, didn’t measure it 
right. Claimed he’d done twenty-one even and 
pointed to his foot-prints — only they happened to 
he someone else’s — and was very nasty until 
Hollaway offered to beat him to a pulp and Billy 
gave him his time. So now Sandy is nursing a 
new grouch and looking for new worlds to con- 
quer.” Blash yawned widely. ‘‘That’s why I 
want a new sport. You see, Sid, Sandy has tried 
everything now.” 

“He might try canoeing and tip over,” sug- 
gested Sid. 

“Don’t be heartless. Besides, he can probably 
swim!” Blash drummed his fingers on the edge 
of the table until Sid, who had returned to work, 
exclaimed protestingly. “Look here, what am I 
going to do about Dick Bates!” asked Blash, 
thrusting Ms hands into his pockets to make them 
behave. 

Sid pushed his book away and sighed in resig- 
nation. “All right, hang you,” he said. “Go 
ahead and talk yourself out, and when you’re 
quite through I’ll finish this math. What about 
Dick!” 


IN CONFEEENCE 


211 


laughed Blash, owe him something. 
Ton haven’t forgotten that hoax he worked on me 
in the movie house, have you?” 

‘^Not by a long shot!” Sid grinned. ‘‘That 
was corking, Blash.” 

“Hm. Well, yes, I acknowledge that it was. 
And being corking, it demands a corking come- 
back. But I can’t seem to see one. My powers 
of — of invention ” 

“You never had any. Why not forget it and 
call quits? You put one over on Dick the day 
you came up in the carriage with him, didn’t 
you ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, that was nothing. Purely impromptu, Sid. 
What I want now is something — something grand 
and magnificent, something worth while ! Can you 
think of anything?” 

“No, and if I could I wouldn’t. You let Dick 
alone until he’s through football. Your old tricks 
will only get his mind off his work.” 

“Think so? ' I wouldn’t want to worry him, Sid. 
My idea is only to amuse him, to provide diver- 
sion.” Blash was silent a moment and Sid, eye- 
ing him doubtfully, stretched a tentative hand 
toward his book. But Blash wasn’t talked out 
yet. He chuckled. “Stan told me something 
funny about Dick yesterday,” he announced. “It 


212 QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

seems that lie’s a bit of a hero back home and his 
high school paper has been copying everything 
about him it could find in The Leader and playing 
it up hard. Now his father is writing to ask him 
if he doesn’t do anything here besides play foot- 
ball and is threatening to take him out of school!” 

‘‘Get out!” Sid looked incredulous. “That’s 
just one of Stan’s yarns.” 

“Honest to coconuts, Sid! And Dick’s terribly 
worried and is afraid the old man will learn that 
he’s been taken into the Banjo and Mandolin Club. 
Say if his father hears that, he’ll disown him!” 

Sid laughed. “Must be a cranky old codger! 
Most fathers would be rather proud, I guess. I 
recall that mine slipped me a twenty-dollar check 
when I wrote home that I’d been elected baseball 
captain!” 

“Well, that’s different,” said Blash gently. 
“You see, he’d never expected much from you, 
Sid, and the surprise momentarily unnerved him. 
And I suppose that by the time he’d pulled him- 
self together again and tried to stop payment on 
that check you had it cashed.” 

“I sure did,” laughed Sid. “And spent, too, 
most of it!” 

“I think I remember the occasion. Well, I’ve 
been sort of dallying with the notion that there 


IN CONFERENCE 


213 


might be a chance to get a rise out of Dick in 
connection with his father’s — er — attitude. I . 
don’t just see my way clear yet, but — there’s an 
idea floating around at the hack of my brain ” 

^‘It will probably die of loneliness,” said Sid 
comfortingly, ^‘so don’t trouble about it. Just 
you take my advice and let Dick alone. I’ll tell 
you right now that I shan’t help you in any of 
your nefarious plots, Slash.” 

“That’s all right. I think I’ll be able to work 
this alone.” Blash stared thoughtfully at the 
light and a slow smile overspread his lean counte- 
nance. “Yes, I think I shall,” he added with con- 
viction. 

Sid looked across suspiciously. “I’ve a good 
mind to warn him against you,” he said; “tell 
him to look out for plots.” 

“Piffle! You mind my own business. I’m not 
going to hurt Dick. Besides, I — I haven’t got it 
quite. It — it eludes muh!” 

“I hope it’ll continue to elude you. Now, for 
the love of Pete, shut up and let me study, will 
you ? ” 

“Sure! I didn’t ask you to stop studying. 
Think your conversation is interesting to me 1 Go 
on and study. I’m going to Sohmer.” 

“Stan’s?” 


214 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

^ ^ I might drop in there. Come over when you ^re 
through with that rot. What you want to bother 
with it for is more than I know, anyway. You’re 
just making it harder for the rest of us!” 

When, a half-hour later, Sid joined his room- 
mate in Number 14 Sohmer, he found to his re- 
lief three boys amicably and unemotionally dis- 
cussing the prospects of the college football teams. 
Blash, however, looked horribly pleased and inno- 
cent, and Sid’s suspicions returned. He always 
suspected Blash when he looked innocent. 

The St. Luke’s Academy game on the following 
Saturday proved one of the best contests of the 
season. The visitors usually gave an excellent 
account of themselves, but the closeness of the 
score on this occasion was a big surprise to 
Parkinson. The best the home team could do in 
. the first half was to drop a single field-goal over 
the cross-bar, and even that modest performance 
was delayed until the second quarter was almost 
over. 

It was Newhall, the big right guard, 'who made 
the tally possible by breaking through on St.. 
Luke’s thirty-two yards and spoiling a punt. The 
pigskin bounded away from Newhall ’s body as he 
leaped into its path, and went trickling across the 
sod. A dozen players pursued it but it was Bob 


IN CONFEKENCE 215 

Peters who won, and when the pile-up was dis- 
entangled it was found snuggled under his chest. 
From the enemy’s twenty-eight to her eighteen 
Gaines and Kirkendall alternated, the latter finally 
making the last of the distance with only inches 
to spare. Warden failed to gain and a quarter- 
back run netted but three yards. With Kirken- 
dall back, on a fake kick, Gaines got through 
right guard for three more. With four to go on 
fourth down Kirkendall dropped the ball between 
the uprights for the only score of the half. 

St. Luke’s presented a heavy team and a most 
aggressive one. From end to end, her line out- 
weighed Parkinson’s by many pounds, but weight 
didn’t mean slowness in her case, and time and 
again the visitors made gains by getting the jump 
on their opponent. In the back-field she was 
lighter but quite as fast as the Brown-and- White. 
St. Luke’s suffered, however, as was generally 
agreed, from a lack of good scoring plays. She 
relied on weight and speed to break through the 
enemy line and her* reliance was not misplaced. 
But she had not counted evidently on the excellent 
defence put up by Parkinson’s back-field. Her 
lighter backs, once through the line, were almost 
invariably stopped short of conclusive gains. She 
had almost nothing to offer in the way of variety 


216 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

and her runs outside tackles were weak. The 
overhead game she let severely alone during the 
first half of the contest and tried but four times 
later. At punting, however, she excelled Kirken- 
dall by five yards and, in the last quarter, when 
K went out, bested Gaines by fully eight. 

The third period opened up with Parkinson kick- 
ing otf and St. Luke’s running the ball back from 
her goal-line to her thirty-eight, Furniss missing a 
tackle and Harris finally bringing the runner 
down. St. Luke’s battered the Brown-and- White 
for her distance, smashing through Cupp on the 
left of centre for five yards and again for two and 
completing her job by an unexpected slide off Wen- 
dell. Once over the fifty-yard-line, however, she 
failed to gain in four and punted to Warden on his 
fifteen. Warden gained five. Kirkendall threw 
Peters on his thirty-three and Bob was downed. 
Off-side on the next play set Parkinson back and 
three downs gained but six yards. Kirkendall 
punted. St. Luke’s fumbled but recovered and 
ran in twelve yards across the field. Parkinson’s 
line failed to give and St. Luke’s tried her first 
forward-pass. Although she managed to bunch 
three men for the catch, the pass grounded. She 
punted on the next down and Stone misjudged the 
ball and followed it across the line for a touchback. 


IN CONFEKENCE 


217 


A few minutes later Warden got away around the 
enemy’s left and zigzagged nearly twenty yards 
before he was run out at his forty. A fake-kick, 
with Kirkendall carrying the ball on a wide run 
around the enemy’s right, added seven more and 
Gaines made the distance on the fifty. With 
Peters coming around from right end, Stone made 
two through centre, and the same play, with Peters 
carrying, gained four outside St. Luke’s left 
end. A subsequent attempt by Gaines failed and 
Parkinson punted. The kick went short and 
cross the boundary at the enemy’s thirty-two 
yards. 

St. Luke’s made four around Furniss and failed 
at the centre. She then tried her second forward- 
pass and made it good, taking the ball just past 
midfield. Scoville took Fumiss’ place for Parkin- 
son. St. Luke’s tried out the new end and was 
stopped for a two-yard loss. A cross-buck on right 
tackle gave her four and her full-back romped 
through a wide hole in Parinson’s centre for eight. 
St. Luke’s now concentrated on Newhall and Wen- 
dell and made short gains, Newhall finally giving 
up and going out in favour of Bartlett. The 
Parkinson right side was weakening and the enemy 
battered it hard and inched along to the Brown- 
and- White ’s twenty-nine. There a fumble cost her 


218 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

a seven-yard loss. Faking a place-kick, her right 
half took the hall through Wendell for six and it 
was second down on Parkinson’s thirty. A plunge 
at centre was stopped and again St. Luke’s pre-. 
pared to kick. This time the ball went to quar- 
ter and that nimble youth romped ahead for the 
needed distance and was downed on the twenty- 
five. 

Two attempts at the right side gave the visitor^ 
five yards and necessitated the substitution of 
Cairns for Wendell. Cairns stopped a plunge at 
his position and, on fourth down, with a tackle 
back in kicking position, St. Luke ’s made her dis- 
tance on a skin-tackle play that shot her left half 
off Harris to Parkinson’s fourteen. 

St. Luke’s ran on a fresh right tackle and a sub- 
stitute left half, and, for Parkinson, Long went in 
for Gaines. With a tackle back and every indica^ 
tion of a forward-pass, St. Lukes ’s smashed at the 
Parkinson right side for three and repeated the 
play for two more. From the nine yards the 
enemy reached the three in two attacks at centre 
and then hurling her whole back-field at Bartlett, 
she sent her right tackle trickling around the 
Parkinson left end. Warden nailed the runner 
just short of the line, but couldn’t prevent a 
score. It was a touchdown by less than a hand’s 


IN CONFEEENCE 219 

breadth, but a touchdown nevertheless. St. Luke ’s 
failed on the punt-out and the score stood 6-3. 

The period ended with the next play and Par- 
kinson made four changes. Gleason went in for 
Cupp, Dean for Upton, Trask for Kirkendall and 
Bates for Stone. St. Luke^s made two substitu- 
tions, sending in a new centre and a new 
full-back. 

Dick carried instructions from Mr. Driscoll to 
open up the play, and Trask, standing on his 
twenty-four yards, sent off a forward-pass to 
Peters well up the field. Peters touched the pig- 
skin but couldn’t hold it. The same play to the 
other side of the field, Trask to Long, netted 
eighteen yards. Dick sent a plunge at the St. 
Luke’s right side but Trask made only a yard. 
Warden ripped off four outside left tackle. A 
forward-pass, Trask to Scoville, added twelve, 
Scoville being downed where he caught. Three 
line plunges left Parkinson three yards short of 
her distance and Trask punted short to the 
enemy’s seventeen. 

St. Luke’s tried the Parkinson ends and gained 
five in two downs and punted to midfield, the ball 
going out. Dick was getting more speed into the 
team than it had shown before and St. Luke’s was 
finding the attacks at her line harder to stop. A 


220 QUABTEK-BACK BATES 

weak spot developed at the St. Luke’s right tackle 
and thrice Warden and Trask plunged through for 
gains. In eight downs Parkinson advanced to the 
enemy’s twenty-eight yards. There, with Trask 
back in kicking position, Dick scurried around the 
St. Luke’s left end and found a free field to her 
twelve, where he was tackled by the quarter just 
inside the boundary. The ball was outside on the 
next play and was paced in on the eleven yards. 
Warden slid off right tackle for three and put the 
pigskin down in front of the right-hand goal-post. 
With Cairns back as though to kick, Dick tossed 
the ball to Long and Long shot it across the line 
to Peters for a touchdown. Parkinson arose in 
the stand and howled approval. 

And that ended the scoring. Coach Driscoll ran 
on numerous second- and third-string players in 
the final four minutes and the game became hectic 
and uncertain, with several penalties and two 
costly fumbles, shared by the two teams, and Dick 
having heart-failure every time he called his sig- 
nals. But, although St. Luke’s worked her way 
back to Parkinson’s thirty-five yards and looked 
formidable, the defenders took the ball away be- 
fore she could try a field-goal and punted out 
of danger. And before the enemy could start an- 
other advance the whistle blew. 


IN CONFERENCE 221 

On the whole, both teams played good football, 
and there were plenty who maintained that, given 
a half-dozen tricky plays, St. Luke’s would have 
scored a victory. Of course Parkinson had shown 
plenty of weak spots. For three periods she had 
been slow in the line and not much faster behind 
it. Newhall had made a poor showing against St. 
Luke’s left guard and Furniss, at left end, had had 
an oif-day. Stone had sometimes chosen the 
wrong plays. But everything considered Parkin- 
son had proved herself a powerful team and shown 
considerable improvement over her performance 
of a week ago. 

Parkinson’s best-beloved rival Kenwood, had 
had a season of ups and downs and, as Coach 
Driscoll said at the first conference following the 
St. Luke’s game, there was no telling what sort 
of a team she would present against Parkinson on 
the twenty-third of November. She had been 
decisively beaten in mid-season by Bonright 
School, had turned around a week later and 
slammed Wainstow to the tune of 26-0, had 
been tied by Musket Hill and now, on Saturday 
last, had just nosed out a victory over Chan- 
cellor. 

‘'‘She’s got good material,” said Mr. Driscoll, 
“but it isn’t running true to form. And she’s had 


222 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 
some hard luck, too. Losing her best back, Shot- 
well, early in the season was against her. But the 
chief trouble, as I see it, is that she doesn’t seem to 
have settled on a definite playing policy, unless 
she’s done it within the week. She started out 
with light backs and a lot of fast, clever trick plays 
that worked all right until she ran up against Bon- 
right. Bonright seems to have beaten her at her 
own game. After that she laid off heavy Browne 
and that other half, whatever his name was, and 
took on two heavy men and started in playing a 
line game, smashing tandems between tackles and 
using a very good forward-pass with two men re- 
ceiving. But she hasn’t developed a dependable 
goal-kicker yet, unless she’s got someone in hid- 
ing. Nutting missed two tries, both easy, on 
Saturday. So, as I say, there’s no such thing as 
sizing her up. Of course, we may get a sort 
of a line on her after we’ve met Chancellor 
this week, but I don’t expect much that will help 
us.” 

“It never seems to make much difference how 
Kenwood plays during the season,” observed 
Stearns Whipple. “She’s always top-of-form 
when she gets to us!” 

“We’ll have one advantage, anyhow,” said Bob 
Peters. “We’ve come along pretty steady and 


IN CONFERENCE 


223 


what we know we’ve learned. Kenwood has sort 
of gone one step forward and two back, and she 
doesn’t know just where she’s at, I guess. What 
about her condition, Billy?” 

‘^Oh, she’s got a first-class trainer in Connell 
and he will do his part all right. You mustn’t 
look for any advant there, Cap. 
be in condition aF ^t. A 
guess.” 

We ’ll outpunt he 

‘^With Kirkendall 
hers, Brighouse, has a : 

his punts where he wan 
may outdistance him a fe 
on the wind. I have a . 
that Kenwood is keeping 
I can’t teU you why I thin^' iLf 
thing is, but that’s my huLK"!-..’' 

‘^And your hunches are lerally right,” mused 
Peters. ^‘Any second-string fellow that looks as 
if he was being held back? A clever back-field 
man, for instance?” 

''I haven’t found any. No, I think it’s a goal- 
kicker, or maybe they’ve got a new scoring play 
that they haven’t shown. Well, I’m only guess- 
ing. We’ll know better a week from Saturday. 
Now let’s do some planning on the week from now 


Her men will 
1 as ours, I 


;one. 

mt man of 
; rd he puts 
hear. We 
t depends 
huiK ^ fellows, 
ig up her sleeve, 
or what the some- 


224 QUAETER-BACK BATES 
to Thursday. We Ve got to buckle down and iSnd 
a way of getting some punch into those split-plays. 
Or else drop them. What’s your idea, Cap?” 

Whereupon the meeting became very technical 
and abstruse. 


CHAPTEE XVm 


PUBLICITY 

Mb. Bates ^ reply to Dick’s letter was contained in 
his regular weekly epistle and was decidedly non- 
committal. He appeared to accept Dick’s state- 
ments as to the latter’s studiousness and progress 
but made little comment. Only, a mail later than 
the letter, came two copies of the Leonardville 
daily, each with a paragraph circled in red ink. 
Seeing them, Dick sighed and shook his head even 
before he read them. Thursday’s paper held the 
following under the caption “High School Jot- 
tings”: 

“Eichard C. Bates, for two years one of High 
School’s most popular students, is certainly mak- 
ing good at his new Alma Mater, Parkinson 
School, which he entered last September. Dick 
went out for the Parkinson Football Team and 
proceeded to show them how the position of 
quarter-back should be played. Now he is first 
substitute, we learn, and the season isn’t over yet 
Dick’s loss was a severe blow to the High School 

225 


226 QUABTEE-BACK BATES 

Team, but his old friends are surely proud of his 

success and are rooting hard for him.’’ 

Dick shuddered over that and took up the second 
paper. ‘^Leonardville is Proud of Him,” he read. 
“Eichard Corliss Bates, the younger son of our 
prominent citizen and successful merchant, Mr. 
Henry L. Bates, of Euclid Boulevard, is a fine 
example of the coming citizens of Leonardville. 
Young Bates is well and favourably known to a 
wide circle of friends in this city who will be 
pleased to learn of his success in the various 
branches of his career at Parkinson School, 
Warne, Mass., of which famous institution of 
learning he became a student in September last. 
While attending the local High School Eichard 
Bates was unusually popular, both for his per- 
sonal traits and for the brilliancy displayed by 
him in athletics. As a football player he was 
easily supreme in this part of the State and his 
prowess was recognised widely. A number of 
schools and colleges sought his services but young 
Bates chose the school which his brother, Stuart 
Bates, now of Philadelphia, attended.' There, in 
the short space of two months, Eichard has al- 
ready made his presence felt and is in a fair way 
to attain renown both for scholastic attainments 
and athletic supremacy. He entered into com- 


PUBLICITY 


227 

petition at the beginning of the school year for the 
position of quarter-back on the School Football 
Team, an honor for which there were dozens of 
contenders, and now holds the place of first sub- 
stitute, with every indication of becoming the regu- 
lar encumbent of the position before the football 
season ends. He has also recently been elected to 
membership in one of the school’s most exclusive 
organizations, the Banjo and Mandolin Club, to 
which, because of a rare musical talent, he will 
doubtless prove a valuable addition. In his classes 
Eichard stands high. There is, we understand, 
talk amongst his friends in the High School of 
organising a party to go to Wame on the occasion 
of the Parkinson-Kenwood football game, which is 
held the Saturday before Thanksgiving, to see him 
play and to do honour to one who is so pleasingly 
upholding the traditions of Leonardville young 
manhood. His career will be watched with sym- 
pathetic interest by a host of well-wishers in our 
fair city. ’ ’ 

Having completed the reading of that, Dick not 
only shuddered again but groaned loudly, so loudly 
that Stanley, at the table, looked up from his 
studies and viewed him with alarm. 

‘‘What’s the matter I” asked Stanley. 

“It’s that rotten paper again,” moaned Dick, 


228 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

casting the offending sheet to the floor and turn- 
ing a disheartened gaze to the window. Stanley 
smiled, pulled the paper toward him dexterously 
with one foot, rescued it and read. And as he 
read he chuckled, and Dick, seeing what was 
happening, made a dash to wrest the paper 
away. 

•‘‘No, get out of here! Let me read it, you 
simp 1 ’ ’ Stanley fended Dick off with feet and one 
hand. “Everybody else has,’^ he laughed, “so 
why shouldn’t IT’ 

Dick scowled, shrugged, thrust his hands into 
his pockets and subsided on the window-seat. ‘ ‘ Go 
ahead then,” he muttered. “But if you laugh I’ll 
kill you!” 

So Stanley put the paper between them 
and made no sound, although certain twitch- 
ings of his hands aroused the other’s sus- 
picions. When he was through Stanley lowered 
the paper from in front of a very serious coun- 
tenance. 

“Well?” said Dick morosely. “Say it, you 
chump!” 

“Why, I — well, of course, Dickie, it’s a bit — 
a bit fulsome, you know, but I can’t see anything 
in it to be mad about.” 

“You can’t, eh? Well, I can! What do you 


PUBLICITY 229 

suppose dad thinks when he reads that sort of 
piffle? No wonder he wasn’t more — more cordial 
in his letter I” 

‘‘But the paper says a lot of very nice things 
about you, Dick, ’ ’ protested Stanley. ‘ ‘ That about 
the exclusive Banjo and Mando ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, shut up ! ” growled Dick. ‘ ‘ They make me 
sick.” 

‘‘And I’m sure,” pursued the other gravely, 
“any fellow would be flattered at having his 
friends come all the way from Pennsylvania to see 
him play in the big game.” 

‘ ‘ Huh ! That ’s only guff, thank goodness ! Gee, 
if that happened ” 

“But this paper says it’s likely to happen,” 
Stanley objected. “If it was me, I’d be pleased 
purple!” 

“Yes, you would!” jeered Dick. “Someone’s 
been filling that newspaper chap with a lot of 
hot air. That’s the sort of stuff they print about 
anyone that— that does anything; like moving 
away or dying or — or getting married. It doesn’t 
mean anything, but the trouble is that dad has seen 
it and I’ll bet he believed it.” 

“Why not? Besides^-it says here ‘In his classes 
Richard stands high.’ That ought to please him, 
anyway!” 


230 QUARTER^BACK BATES 

like to know what they know about my 
classes. The whole thing ^s sickening.’’ 

^‘Oh, I don’t know,” murmured Stanley ju- 
dicially, casting his eyes down the column again. 
‘ ^ Say, you never told me that ‘ a number of schools 
and colleges’ were after you, old man. That’s hot 
stuff! You’ve been hiding your bush under a 
lightning.” 

‘^Well, they really were, Stan, but I didn’t brag 
of it. Not here, anyway. I did show the letters to 
Blash one time when he was here, just as a sort 
of joke. But I don’t see how the paper got hold 
of it. I suppose Sumner White blabbed.” 

‘‘Well, cheer up, Dickie. Polks may not think 
you wrote that yourself. There’s always that 
chance. Even if they do ” 

“Stan! Does it — does it sound as if I’d — I’d 
done it?” 

“N-no, only the election to the Banjo ” 

“The High School Argus got that from The 
Leader, jovL idiot ! I suppose the guy that wrote 
all this drivel found it in the Argus and just — 
just dilated on it.” 

“Dilated is good,” chuckled Stanley. “Who- 
ever he is, I’d say he delights to dilate. Well, cut 
it out and paste it in your scrap-book, Dick. It’ll 
interest your grandchildren some day.’^ 


PUBLICITY 231 

‘‘Yes, I will!’’ declared Dick venomously. He 
seized the paper and tore it into shreds and then 
cast it from him into the general direction of the 
waste-basket. ‘‘Like fun!” 

“When— er — that is, how many do you think 
there’ll be in the party, Dick?” asked Stanley inno- 
cently. 

“What party?” Dick scowled his puzzlement. 

“Why, the party that’s coming on to see 
you ” 

But he didn’t finish, for Dick was on him like a 
whirlwind, the chair went over backward — Stan- 
ley accompanying it — and there was a rough time 
in Number 14 for the ensuing four minutes. At 
the end of that time Dick sat astride Stanley’s 
chest and demanded apologies, and Stanley, weak 
from laughing, gave in. “Just the same,” he 
added, wiping his eyes as he scrambled to his feet 
again, “just the same, Dick, I think you ought to 
make some sort of plans for their entertainment — 
All right! All right! I won’t open my mouth 
again ! I was just thinking ” 

“Don’t think!” ordered Dick sternly. “Sit 
down there and help me write a letter to that edi- 
tor man that’ll blister his hide and make him let 
me alone after this ! Come on now. How would 
you begin it?” 


232 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

In the end it turned out to be a very brief and 
very formal and extremely polite epistle which 
thanked the Leonardville Sentmel for its interest 
but requested that hereafter Mr. Richard Bates’s 
name be excluded from its columns since Mr. 
Richard Bates disliked publicity. 

Great stuff!” commented Stanley when Dick 
had read over the final draft. ‘‘Sounds so fine 
and modest. Hadn’t you better enclose a check 
for that write-up, though? You don’t want him 
to think ” 

Stanley, however, was now looking into the 
muzzle of a paper-weight, so to speak, and his 
words dwindled to silence. Dick, cowing him fur- 
ther with a sustained glare, replaced the paper- 
weight and directed an envelope. When the letter 
was sealed and stamped Dick again fixed his com- 
panion with a ferocious and intimidating look. 
“You keep quiet about this, Stan,” he said, “or 
I’ll bust you all up into a total loss ! Understand? ’ ’ 

Stanley nodded. 

“Well, say so then!” 

“Dick, you have my sacred word of honour that 
never so long as I do live will I so much as breathe 
a single syllabub of this thing save that I do have 
your permission to so do, though wild hearses 
drag my body asunder and ” 


PUBLICITY 


233 


^VOli, shut up! But you remember! If I find 
you’ve told Blash or — or anyone I’ll lick you, 
Stan!” 

‘^I hear and I obey in fear and trembling,” re- 
sponded Stanley humbly. “Least of all will I ever 
divulge a word to that exclusive organization, the 
Banjo and Mandolin Club, Dick ! And if you want 
any assistance in entertaining ” 

Stanley beat the paper-weight to the door by 
one fifth of a second, establishing what was un- 
doubtedly a record over the course ! 

Dick mailed the letter to the editor of the Senti^ 
nel and tried to dismiss the annoying affair from 
memory. In this effort he was well aided by 
Coach Driscoll, for the coach didn’t allow him 
much time that week for vain regretting. Dick 
and Stone were alternated in practice every day 
and none could have said with any degree of cer- 
tainty that either was the favourite. Cardin was 
quite evidently relegated to third place, in token 
of which he drove B Squad around the field in 
signal drill while Dick and Gus Stone confined 
their attentions to A. The Second Team was 
licked to a frazzle on Tuesday in a thirty-minute 
session, was held scoreless on Wednesday, al- 
though given the ball eight times on the First’s 
ten-yard-line, and was again decisively beaten 


234 QUAETEK-BACK BATES 

Thursday. On Friday the First Team went 
through signals and did some punting and catch- 
ing and then were sent back to the showers. But 
work was no longer over when twilight fell these 
days, for there was an hour of black-board talk 
in the gymnasium Trophy Boom after supper each 
night. There, with the squad seated on some old 
yellow settees dragged in from the balcony. Coach 
Driscoll, with chalk and eraser and pointing finger, 
explained and questioned. On Friday night Mr. 
Driscoll talked defence against shifts, first chalk- 
ing his diagram on the black surface beside him. 

‘ ^ Chancellor uses several forms of shift plays, ’ ’ 
he began. ^‘For a punt she uses a tackle-over. 
You know how to meet that, I think, but we’ll 
go over it again to refresh your memories. When 
you see the opponent shifting a tackle to either 
side you must yourselves shift a full space in 
that direction. I’m speaking to the five centre 
men now. Suppose Chancellor calls for Hackle- 
over left.’ Centre, guards and tackles move a 
space to the left. That brings centre opposite the 
opposing right guard and left guard opposite the 
opposing right tackle, as shown on the board. 
Our left tackle is out here opposite their right end, 
our left end still further out where he can dash 
around to spoil the kick — if he’s smart enough! 


PUBLICITY 


235 

Eight end stays well out and a little back of the 
line, and iUs his duty to spot fakes and give the 
news the moment he does it. If a forward-pass 
develops on his side his place is under the ball. 
Eight half-back plays about three yards back, be- 
tween his guard and tackle. Full-back occupies 
a similar position on the other side, ready to go in 
or out, as play develops. He and left tackle must 
look after the opposing tackle and end. Behind 
him, more to the right and well back, is the left 
half. The quarter, of course, is up the field. 
Chancellor will almost always punt from that for- 
mation, but she may fake, and it is those fakes 
you must watch out for. Full-back must be espe- 
cially alive. He must watch the enemy’s back- 
field and her right end too. If the latter goes out 
to receive a pass he must get to him promptly and 
block him. On the other hand, if a punt comes, as 
it is likely to nine times in ten, this defence puts 
three men where they ought to be able to sift 
through in time to hurry the punter if not to 
actually block the kick. And if you can hurry 
the punter, in Chancellor’s case her left half- 
back, you are doing something. For ‘tackle-over 
right’ you merely reverse this diagram. Chan- 
cellor will sometimes punt from ordinary forma- 
tion to fool you, but not often, for her punter 


236 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

likes plenty of room. Now, fellows, are there any 
questions? Let’s have this perfectly understood, 
for it’s a formation you’ll have to use often to- 
morrow.” 

Sometimes they adjourned to the gymnasium 
floor and lined up and then walked through the 
evolutions of some play not clearly understandable 
in the Trophy Room. After these evening 
seances Dick, for one, was likely to have much 
difficulty in getting to sleep, his mind being a weird 
confusion of plays and signals. 


CHAPTER XIX 


ON THE SCREEN 

Parkinson played Chancellor on the latter’s home 
field this year, and a good half of the school accom- 
panied the team to Mount Wansett Saturday 
morning. Dick, of course, went with the squad 
of twenty-one players that left on the ten-forty- 
three train, and others of our acquaintance fol- 
lowed after an early dinner, reaching Mount Wan- 
sett with just time to reach the field before Babe 
Upton kicked off. The line-up for the visitors at 
the start was, with one exception, what it would 
be for the Kenwood game a week later. Gleason 
was at left guard in place of Cupp, the latter being 
out because of a bad ankle. Stone started at 
quarter-back and played a good defensive game 
but was, as usual, slow in getting at the attack. 
Toward the last of the second period, when Parkin- 
son had finally worked the ball down to Chan- 
cellor’s twenty-seven yards, Dick took his place, 
bearing instructions to try a forward-pass and, 
should that fail, to score on a field-goal. Stone 
had been intent on hammering the enemy line for 
237 


238 QUARTER-BACK BATES 
a touclidowii, without apparently realising that 
Chancellor was getting more invulnerable with 
every plunge and that time was working in her 
behalf. The attempt at a forward almost suc- 
ceeded, but not quite, and on third down, standing 
on. Chancellor’s thirty-five-yard line, Kirkendall 
dropped a pretty goal directly over the centre of 
the bar. That was the only score of the half, 
and it was becoming apparent to Parkinson rooters 
why Kenwood had been able to win from Chan- 
cellor by only one score, and that a field goal. 

To Dick’s surprise, Cardin started the third 
period, and played an excellent game. In fact it 
was due to Cardin that Parkinson secured a second 
score soon after play was resumed. A muffed 
punt on Chancellor’s twenty yards had been cap- 
tured by Bob Peters and two plunges had carried 
the pigskin on to the fourteen yards. There, how- 
ever, a mass attack on the left of the home team’s 
right tackle had resulted in no gain and a try-at- 
goal seemed necessary, with the probabilities 
against success since the ball was at a wide angle 
with the goal. Cardin solved the difficulty by 
faking a kick and, after hiding the ball until the 
Chancellor line had broken through, dodging his 
way around the enemy’s left for enough ground to 
secure the down. From there Kirkendall and 


ON THE SCEEEN 239 

Warden had alternated and had eventually car- 
ried the ball across. 

Later, Chancellor, not for a moment acknowledg- 
ing defeat, pulled off two long forward-passes that 
took her from her own thirty yards to Parkinson’s 
twenty-eight. Two line attacks netted five more 
and a third was stopped for no gain. Then a long- 
legged ba0k put a neat field-goal over for the home 
team’s first score. Dick went hack at the begin- 
ning of the final quarter and, with a line-up con- 
sisting largely of second-and third-string players, 
did his best to hold the enemy at bay, and suc- 
ceeded, although there were some heart-stirring 
moments for the visiting audience. When the last 
whistle blew to score was 10-3 in Parkinson’s 
favour and she had the satisfaction of having bet- 
tered Kenwood’s performance against the oppo- 
nent. For Chancellor had scored a touchdown 
against the Blue but had failed to seriously 
threaten the Parkinson goal-line. At that, how- 
ever, the Brown-and- White’s superiority over the 
Blue was still questionable, and wise prophets re- 
fused to be unduly optimistic as to next Saturday’s 
contest. 

When Dick arrived home long after six o’clock 
and made a hurried trip to Sohmer to leave his 
suit-case and prepare sketchily for supper, he 


240 QUARTEK-BACK BATES 

found a letter awaiting him. It was from Sumner 
White, he saw, and he concluded that it could 
wait until after supper. But, at the last moment, 
he seized on it as he hurried out of the room and 
tore the envelope open as he took the stairs three 
at a time, and skimmed the first page on the way 
along the Yard to Alumni Hall. At the bottom of 
the page he came on something that brought him 
up standing. . With a perplexed frown he started 
hack and re-read the beginning. 

‘‘I suppose you saw what we did to Norristown 
(Sumner wrote.) It was a corking game and Sid 
Nellis got his wrist broken and a lot more of us 
got pretty well scrapped. The score was 14 to 6, 
hut we sure had to work for it. Jim Cleary played 
most of the game at full-back and was a wonder, 
better than Ed ever was. But I guess you read all 
this. The big news is that three or four of us, 
maybe more, will be over on the twenty-third to 
see you play in the Kenwood game. Charlie Stone 
and Will Meehs and Theo Harris and I sure, and 
maybe Cleary and Townsend. I guess you saw the 
swell articles in the Sentinel last week. I meant to 
send you a copy, but ij got lost, and anyway I 
guess your father saw to it. I met him on High 
Street a couple of days ago and he asked me what 
I knew about that article and I said nothing and 


ON THE SCREEN 241 

he said it was confounded nonsense, but he acted 
like he thought it was pretty fine just the same, 
Dick. We’re coming over on the midnight from 
Philly and that will get us to Warne about noon 
Saturday. Lucky we haven’t any Saturday game, 
isn’t it? We hold last real practice Friday and 
then only do some signal drills Monday and Tues-t 
day. So we have lots of time. Charlie Stone’s 
old man is sort of financing the trip, he and Mr. 
Harris, but we are all paying part. You mustn’t 
put yourself out on our account, for we know you’ll 
be awfully tied down that day. But we’ll dig 
around to your room when we get in and see you 
for a few minutes. Then maybe after the garni 
we can have a good chin. Great, isn’t it? Gee, 
I’m crazy about it. Hope you whale Kenwood 
good. I’ll write again about Wednesday and let 
you know if any other fellows are going. A 
lot of them want to only they haven’t got the 
coin.” 

Dick read that remarkable letter over twice and 
then stuffing it into a pocket, took up his hurried 
journey again. He didn’t know whether to be 
pleased or peeved. Of course, it was flattering 
that his old team-mates should want to come all 
that way to see him play, and he supposed he 
really appreciated it, but somehow it made him 


242 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

feel sort of foolish too. It wasn’t as if he was the 
captain, or even the first-choice quarter. If fel- 
lows here in Parkinson heard of it they’d think 
him beastly conceited and probably laugh like any- 
thing. Besides, hang it all, how did he know he 
would even get in on Saturday? Suppose Stone 
played the game right through! Of course, the 
coach would probably let him in for a minute or 
tv 0 at the end, just as he would Cardin, to get his 
h 1 er, but what a fool he would feel in that case! 
Fr iks coming all the way from Leonardville, Penn- 
,3 i /ania, to see him do stunts and he sitting on the 
Dench all the time ! Gee, that would be fierce ! He 
visaed Sumner White and Charlie and all the 
others, especially including the editor of the 
Ser.tmely would mind their own business ! He was 
hungry enough for supper to forget the letter in 
his pocket save at infrequent intervals. When he 
did recall it the pucker returned to his forehead 
. ■ K ; he thrust a hand over the offending missive to 
be sure that it hadn’t got away. It would be awful 
if he dropped it and someone picked it up and 
read it! 

Stanley and Blash and Rusty and he had ar- 
ranged for a movie party that night. The idea 
had been Blash ’s and Dick had at first declined to 
go, pleading that he would be too tired and that. 


243 


ON THE SCEEEN 

besides, he had a lot of studying that ought to be 
done. But he had been persuaded to go, and so he 
got through supper rather hurriedly, knowing that 
the others would be waiting. He wanted to read 
that awful letter to Stanley and ask advice and 
sympathy, but he would have to wait until they got 
back from the movie house. On the way there he 
was silent, and Eusty, walking beside him, rallied 
him on his ^‘pensivity.’’ Dick was tempted to 
confide in Eusty, but he resisted, perhaps wisely, 
and only responded that he was tired. As a mat- 
ter of truth, he was, for even had he not played a 
minute, the trip was sufficient to weary one. 

^‘Well, the movies will rest you,^’ answered 
Eusty gaily. ^‘They do me, always, Dick. After 
IVe studied too hard or anything I can go to a 
movie house and get rested wonderfully. You see, 
you have your mind taken from your worries, and 
you sort of relax your body and there you are I 
Besides, Dick, it’s a corking good picture to- 
night. And then there’s the weekly review. I 
like that about as well as anything, I think. ‘Bath, 
Maine; Largest schooner afloat is launched from 
yard of the builders with appropriate cere- 
monies.’ ‘Miss Mary Ellen Dingbottle, daughter 
of Senator Hiram Dingbottle, breaks a bottle of 
tomato catsup over the bow.’ ‘In her native ele- 


244 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

ment!’ ^Los Angeles, Cal., Harold WhostMs, 
America’s favourite moving picture star, signs 
contract calling for largest salary ever paid to an 
actor.’ ^Tie Siding, Wyoming. Members of 
Boys’ and Girls’ Hog Club bold annual parade.’ 
^Procession passing in review before Mayor 
Scrugg and invited guests.’ ‘ Little Willie Ding- 
fingle and bis prize porker: Willie is at tbe left 
of tbe picture.’ ‘Minneapolis, Minn. Fire de- 
stroys million-dollar barber-sbop.’ ‘Firemen 
fighting flames as hundreds of celluloid combs ex- 
plode.’ ‘New York City. Twelve thousand ’ ” 

‘ ‘ Shut up ! ” laughed Dick. ‘ ‘ That ’s awfully like 
it, though ! And the picture of the burning barber- 
shop is thrown on the screen in red.” 

“Always! Just as a picture of the Whirlpool 
Rapids taken from an airplane is always blue. 
There are certain laws that can’t be — ^Well, here 
we are. Keep your hand out of your pocket, Dick. 
This is Blash’s treat. When Blash shows the least 
sign of paying for anything, for the love of mud 
don’t stop him! I’m all for the encouragment of 
miracles ! Better get ’em reserved, Blash ; there’ll 
be a crowd tonight ! ’ ’ And Rusty winked gravely 
at Dick. 

Blash, however, paid no attention to the disin- 
terested advice, but bought the usual tickets, and 


ON THE SCREEN 


245 


the quartette made their way into the darkened 
theatre and peered about for seats. Fortunately, 
Rusty’s prophecy proved false and there were 
plenty of vacancies. There did not, though, ap- 
pear to he four together, and while Dick sug- 
gested sitting in pairs none of the others seemed to 
like the notion. ‘‘Oh, no,” whispered Stanley, 
“let’s keep together. It’s more fun. There’ll be 
seats in a minute or two.” 

“I see four now,” said Rusty. “On the side 
there, pretty well front. Come on!” 

Dick thought them rather too close to the screen 
when he was finally seated between Blash and 
Rusty, with Stanley beyond the latter, hut the 
others declared them to he just right. As Blash 
was usually a stickler for sitting well back, Dick 
was slightly puzzled. The first show was almost 
over and they witnessed the final exploits of Dick’s 
favourite movie hero through half a reel, pretend- 
ing not to look. Then the house lighted and a brief 
intermission ensued. 

“I do hope they have a good weekly tonight,” 
observed Rusty, “don’t you, Blash?” 

“Yes,” answered the other, rewarding the ques- 
tioner with a scowl that Dick saw and didn’t 
understand. Beyond Rusty, toward the aisle, 
Stanley was grinning widely. Dick began to ex- 


246 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

perience tlie uncomfortable feeling that the others 
were enjoying a joke that he was not in on, and 
to wonder if the joke was on him ! Then the lights 
were lowered, an ornate ‘‘Welcome’’ flashed on the 
screen, the piano began its jig-time music and the 
weekly review of current events started. There 
were the usual scenes, so like Rusty’s travesty 
that Dick had to smile. There happened to be no 
ship launching on this occasion, but there was a 
series of views aboard a United States warship 
during target practice, and there was a gorgeous 
fire, thrown on in crimson hues, and Rusty’s pa- 
rade of the Hog Club was overlooked in favour of 
a poultry show. Then came the ingenious trade- 
mark at the finish and Dick settled back to enjoy 
the comedy. But the weekly appeared to have 
taken a new lease of life, for another title flashed 
on the screen. Dick read idly and then jumped for- 
ward in his seat and read again, his eyes fairly 
popping from his head, read incredulously and 
amazedly the legend trembling on the white back- 
ground : 

TOWN HONOURS HER HERO 

Leonardville, Pa. — Twenty thousand citizens in 
monster outdoor meeting pay tribute to famous 
athlete, Richard Corliss Bates. 


CHAPTER XX 


BLASH EVENS THE SCORE 

WnmE Dick still stared, unable to believe his eyes, 
the title whisked itself away and a picture took its 
place. A sea of upturned faces surrounded a flag- 
draped stand on which a large gentleman was 
gesticulating. Seated figures flanked him and on 
every haughty chest fluttered a ribbon badge. In 
the background what looked to be a mile-long fac- 
tory building stretched. There was an outburst 
of cheering and waving from the throng, the 
speaker smiled benevolently and the picture faded 
from sight! 

Not until then was Dick aware of the absorbed 
regard of his companions. Turning amazedly he 
looked into the eloquent countenance of Blash. 
‘‘You never told us exclaimed Blash in an awed 
and choking voice, and: “Oh, Dick!'’ whispered 
Rusty hoarsely. “Ain't it grand?" 

For one dazed, blank moment Dick stared back 
into Blash 's strangely working face. Then the 
light dawned. He gave a gasp and--= 

247 


248 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

‘‘Stop it, Dick!’’ gurgled Blash. “We’ll be 
put out, you s-s-silly ass! Grab him, Rusty!” 

And Rusty grabbed him and, breathing heavily, 
he was forced back into his seat. 

“Be good!” begged Rusty in a strangled voice. 
“Remember you’ve g-g-ot a reputat-repu — Oh, 
goshl^^ 

“As a public character,” began Blash. ^^Quit 
it! There’s an usher coming, Dick! Be good, 
won’t you?” 

“I — — ^I’ll break every bone in your body,” 
sputtered Dick. “I’ ” 

“What’s the trouble there?” asked a stern voice 
from the aisle. “You’ll have to cut out that 
noise, fellows, or leave the theatre.” 

“It — it’s all right. Usher,” panted Blash. 
“The— my friend had a slight attack of — of ” 

“Vertigo,” supplied Stanley. “He’s all right 
now. Feel better, Dick? Yes, he says he feels 
better, thanks.” 

“You let go me,” growled Dick, writhing in 
the grasp of Blash and Rusty. “What do I care 
about the usher? Let go my arms, you pups !” 

“Just keep your eyes closed,” said Rusty 
soothingly. “You ’ll be all right in a second. I ’ve 
got an aunt who’s just that way. Every time she 
goes to the movies ” 


BLASH EVENS THE SCOEE 249 

' ' Hang your aunt ! ’ ’ exploded Dick. ^ ' I tell you 
to let go of me!’’ 

The usher flashed a suspicious beam from his 
pocket-torch on the convulsed features and mut- 
tered doubtfully: Looks to me like he was havin’ 
a fit!” 

^ ^ Usher ! Usher, there’s nothing the matter with 
him ! ’ ’ exclaimed an indignant voice from the row 
behind. Those boys have been acting up ever 
since they came in, and you ought to make them 
behave. It’s no pleasure for others to have to be 
annoyed like this and ” 

^ ‘ Oh, madam ! ’ ’ exclaimed Blash, turning an in- 
jured countenance. ‘‘How can you say so? I 
assure you ” 

“You tell your friend to come out of it,” said 
the usher doggedly. “Either that or you all get 
out! That goes, see?” 

“Oh, thanks so much,” said Stanley gratefully. 
“ He ’s quite all right now. You ’re all right, aren’t 
you, Dick? Yes, he says he’s feeling ever so much 
better. Maybe ” 

“0 you Bates!” cried a voice from across 
the darkened house. “0 you famous athlete!” 
Laughs and chuckles followed. The usher gazed 
about him bewilderedly. From the balcony came 
a further interruption. “What did you pay for it. 


250 QUARTEE-BACK BATES 
DickT’ inquired an earnest voice. Laughter un- 
restrained arose from many quarters. A shrill 
falsetto joined in. ‘^Regular cheers for Bates, 
fellows! One, two, three!’’ Someone accepted 
the challenge and, interspersed with laughter, a 
ragged Parkinson cheer broke forth: ‘‘Rah, rah, 
rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Bates I 
Bates! BATES!” And, “ Eerp!*^ added a soli- 
tary voice upstairs. Dick slumped into his seat, 
all fight gone from him. 

Three ushers, reinforced by a stout gentleman 
from the front, hurried along the aisles and 
begged or commanded silence, and gradually the 
laughter subsided to chuckles and the chuckles died 
away. Blash whispered contritely in Dick’s ear: 
‘ ‘ Sorry if I ’ve made you mad, Dick. It was just a 
joke, you know. Thought you’d take it like a 
good sport.” 

‘ ‘ All right, ’ ’ answered Dick glumly. ‘ ‘ Shut up, 
please.” 

The comedy was half finished and Dick tried 
hard to put his thoughts on the humours of it but 
met with scant success. He blamed Stanley for 
breaking his promise and telling Blash about that 
article in the Leonardville Sentinel and about 
Sumner White’s letter. For of course he had told 
Blash. Otherwise, how could Blash have known 


251 


BLASH EVENS THE SCORE 

and have concocted that horrible joke? Gradu- 
ally resentment against Blash — and Rusty, too, 
since it was apparent that Rusty had known be- 
forehand— waned, for, after all, it was nothing to 
get angry about. Blash had merely paid him hack 
in his own coin, a little more cleverly. Dick even 
found heart to grin once in the darkness and to 
wonder how Blash had managed to persuade the 
movie manager to present the ridiculous thing! 
But Stanley — Dick scowled. He wouldn’t forgive 
Stan very soon! 

Of course he wouldn’t hear the last of it for a 
long time. Evidently Parkinson fellows were scat- 
tered freely through the house and every one of 
them would return to school with a hilarious ver- 
sion of the incident. Well, that didn’t matter. A 
fellow had to take jokes as well as perpetrate them, 
and after awhile it would be forgotten. But Stan- 
ley had no business to tell. Dick was firm as to 
that. When the feature picture came on Dick had 
recovered his equanimity and was able to enjoy it, 
although he took pleasure in letting Blash and 
Rusty remain in ignorance of his forgiveness. 
Afterwards, going out, he had to play the good 
sport and meet the laughing gibes of acquaintances 
with smiling unconcern, but he was glad when they 
were in the less brilliant stretch of School Street. 


252 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

He purposely avoided Stanley and chose Blash as 
his companion on the way hack to school. Blash 
was inclined to be apologetic and remorseful. 

“Maybe it wasnT so pesky smart, after all, 
Dick,’’ he said. “I didn’t think about the other 
fellows being there. I’m afraid you ’LL get a lot 
of ragging.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I don ’ t mind, ’ ’ answered Dick. “You had 
to when we sprung that one on you, you know. 
But how the dickens did you work it, Blash? 
Honest, I thought I was seeing things when they 
flashed that rot on the screen! Thought my— my 
mind had given way or something! And I didn’t 
get onto it for ages ; not until I saw you trying not 
to explode! How’d you work it?” 

“It wasn’t hard,” said Blash with restored com- 
placency. “I just told the fellow who runs the 
theatre, McCready, a very decent sort of chap, that 
I wanted to spring a harmless joke on one of the 
fellows. Let him in on it enough so’s he’d appre- 
ciate the stunt. Then I slipped a couple of dollars 
to the guy who operates the machine up there and 
he faked up the title and got hold of an old film 
showing an outdoor meeting of operatives at some 
shoe factory or something during a Fourth of 
July celebration. And, gee, it went great, didn’t 
it? That is, it did if you’re sure you’re not huffed 


SLASH EVENS THE SCOEE 253 

about it, Dick. There’s no fun in a joke that goes 
sour, though!” 

‘H’m not huffy, Blash. It was a bit of a jolt at 
first, though! Seeing my name flash out at me 
like that — was sort of startling! What I don’t 
understand, though, is what — is how ” 

^‘Back to your mark! Start over, Dick.” 

^^Well, then, what put the idea of a — a— where 
did you get that stuff about my being a hero and 
all that?” floundered Dick. 

‘ ‘ Oh, one hears things, ’ ’ Blash chuckled. ^ ^ Fame 
has its — ah — penalties!” 

‘‘Yes, I guess one does hear things,” said Dick 
bitterly with a resentful glance at the dimly seen 
form of Stanley, ahead. 

They dropped Blash at Goss and went on to 
Sohmer, Eusty choosing the longest way home for 
the privilege of enjoying their society, as he ex- 
plained. Blash ’s joke was further discussed, 
Eusty declaring with a reminiscent laugh that he 
would never forget the expression on Dick’s face 
when the title was flashed on the screen! Then 
Eusty took himself off across the turf on a short- 
cut to Maple Street and Dick and Stanley climbed 
the stairs in silei¥50 to Number 14. 

When the light was going Stanley looked ques- 
tioningly at his chum. “What’s the matter, 


254 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

DickU’ he asked. ^‘Did that business jar you too 
much!’’ 

‘‘No, I didn’t mind it, thanks,” replied Dick, 
rather stiffly. “Of course,” he added after a 
pause, “everyone in school will think me an awful 
ass, but I suppose that won’t matter. It won’t to 
you, anyway ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Just what does that mean ! Why to me ? ’ ’ 
“Well, it won’t, will it!” asked Dick defiantly. 
“If it had you’d have kept your mouth shut.” 
“Meaning!” 

“Meaning you promised to and you didn’t. You 
had to go and tell Blash.” 

“Oh, that’s it!” Stanley sounded relieved. 
“Well, let me tell you that I haven’t spoken a word 
to Blash or to anyone else about that business. 
I thought you had, though.” 

“I’d be likely to!” Dick looked incredulous. 
“If you didn’t, how did Blash know!” 

“Search me, Dick. Maybe he doesn’t know. 
Maybe he just hit on that by chance.” 

“I don’t believe it. Perhaps he saw that thing 
in the Sentinel — But he couldn’t ! Well, I’m sorry 
I suspected you, Stan.” 

“Don’t mention it,” replied the other cheer- 
fully. “And look here, don’t get worried over 
the fellows hearing about it. Of course they will. 


255 


BLASH EVENS THE SCORE 

and of course they’ll rag you a bit, but it’s only a 
good joke, Dick, and that’s all they’ll think it. It 
isn’t a patch on the things some fellows have had 
to stand!” 

‘‘N-no, I suppose it isn’t. But — did you hear 
one idiot there tonight ask how much I paid for 
it? Maybe they’ll think I did pay for it, Stan?” 

‘^Oh, rot! That guy was just having some fun 
with you. They all know it was a joke, and they 
saw Rusty and Blash with us, and they’ll lay it to 
one of them. As a matter of fact, Dick, it’s a 
pretty good sign to have something like that 
sprung on you, because it means that you are 
somebody. If fellows don’t like you they don’t 
trouble to work practical jokes on you, old top ! 
There’s that satisfaction if you want it!” 


CHAPTER XXI 


TWO SCRAPS OF PAPER 

Time seemed to fly that next week. Sunday van- 
ished almost before Dick knew it was there, and he 
scarcely found time to write his letters, one to his 
father and 6ne to Sumner White. The latter was 
rather a difficult missive, for he couldn’t manage 
to get all the cordiality into it that he thought 
Sumner would expect to find. The words looked 
all right, but they^ sounded insincere. Then Mon- 
day fled quickly, the afternoon occupied with much 
hard work on the gridiron for the second-string 
players and a light warming-up for those who 
had borne the brunt of the battle against Chan- 
cellor. Tuesday brought everyone back into 
strenuous practice and the afternoon was given 
over to trying out five new plays against the Sec- 
ond and to a grilling signal drill. The evening 
sessions continued as well. Mass meetings be- 
came almost nightly occurrences and Parkinson 
sang and yelled and became daily more enthusi- 
astic and more filled with football spirit. Every 
line of news or rumour from Kenwood was avidly 

256 


TWO SCRAPS OF PAPER 257 
read and discussed and the tide of patriotism ran 
high. Wednesday nopn brought another epistle 
from Sumner White, a brief and rather chaotic 
note which was as follows : 

‘‘Don’t pay any attention to the Whitworth 
game. We weren’t out to win and we saved our 
best men for Thursday. At that the score wasn’t 
bad and Whitworth wouldn’t have scored the sec- 
ond touchdown if we hadn’t had most of our subs 
in. Well, it’s all settled for next Friday. Charlie 
and Will and Jim are coming, and one other. 
That’s five of us. Theo can’t go. His mother’s 
sick. Went to the hospital today. And Town- 
send’s backed out. Some of the girls are crazy to 
go, but of course they can’t. Everything lovely 
here. We’re going to win on Thanksgiving, that’s 
final, Dick. Well, see you Saturday, old scout. 
So long. Sum. ’.’ 

Dick wondered who the “one other” might be 
and why Sumner hadn’t told, hut the question 
didn’t occupy his thoughts long. He read that let- 
ter to Stanley, watching ferociously for any sign 
of levity, and was a bit disappointed when he saw 
none. He was in a mood to have welcomed a 
scrap ! 

That afternoon he and Stone alternated at driv- 
ing the big team against the Second in the last 


258 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

scrimmage before the final game, and it proved to 
be the hardest and most blood-thirsty encounter 
of the season. The Second, with nothing to lose, 
was resolved to finish in a blaze of glory, and the 
way they went at the enemy was a marvel. Before 
scrimmage and after it they might be friends and 
well-wishers, but while the battle was on friend- 
ship was at an end and they fought like wild-cats. 
They scored in the first ten minutes, pushing 
straight through the First’s line for a clean touch- 
down and kicking a goal afterwards, and they 
scored again from the field within twenty seconds 
of the final whistle. And the best the First could 
do in retaliation was to get two touchdowns with- 
out goals. So the score at the end was 12-10 and 
the Second viewed the result as a nominal victory 
and ended the training season in a condition of 
wild triumph, parading around the field, singing 
and cheering, to their own delight and the amused 
approval of the school at large. 

Dick emerged from the fracas with a damaged 
nose and several painful but unimportant contu- 
sions, and scarcely anyone else fared much better. 
The Second Team players were tattered and dis- 
figured and gloried in their wounds. Altogether, 
it was a disreputable and motley bunch of vaga- 
bonds that gathered in the locker room after the 


TWO SCRAPS OF PAPER 259 
trouble was over, and, having buried the hatchet, 
discussed the late unpleasantness in all its details 
and speculated as to its bearing on the big game. 
The coaches, for Mr. Driscoll had been assisted by 
two and sometimes three enthusiastic graduates 
during the past week, wore expressions of satis- 
faction, just such expressions, as Short’ ^ Davis, 
confided to Dick, as the spectators doubtless wore 
in ancient Rome after a particularly gory enter- 
tainment in the arena! Dick accidentally heard 
one of the assistant coaches confide to another that 
‘^whether those chaps can lick Kenwood or not, 
Perry, they sure can fight!” 

Perhaps some of the fighting mood remained 
with Dick after he had washed away the stains 
of battle and was on his way across to Sohmer in 
the deepening twilight. At all events, the theory 
serves as an explanation of what happened when, 
just outside the hall, Sandy Halden and another 
fellow encountered the returning gladiator. 

‘‘Behold the world-famed athlete!” declaimed 
Sandy, adding a laugh that was far more annoying 
than the words. His compai^ion laughed, too, but 
somewhat embarrassedly. Dick scowled and 
pushed past toward the steps. But Sandy wasn’t 
through. ‘ ‘ Hicksville ’s Hero ! ” he went on grand- 
iloquently. ‘ ‘ He says so himself ! ’ ’ 


260 QUAETEE-BACK BATES 

What happened then was performed so quickly 
that Dick was nearly as surprised as Sandy. 
Sandy was prone on the grass well beyond the 
edge of the walk, his companion was a dozen yards 
away in flight and Dick was standing supreme on 
^the first step at the entrance. Presumably Dick 
had pitched Sandy where he lay, but Dick had little 
recollection of having done so. Or of having re- 
gained the steps afterward. He had given way to 
a sudden and overmastering anger and had acted 
without conscious thought. Now, however, the 
anger was gone and in its place was a wholesome 
amusement. 

‘‘Better get off the grass, Halden,’’ he volun- 
teered cheerfully. “That^s just been seeded 
there.’’ 

Halden got otf, but he didn’t resent the attack. 
Instead, he brushed himself silently and unneces- 
sarily, avoiding a glance at Dick until he straight- 
ened up again. Then with a look so malevolent 
that Dick wondered at it, he said in a low voice 
that shook with passion: “All right. Bates! 
That settles you!” 

Dick laughed, but not with much amusement. 
Somehow, the threat conveyed in the other ’s tone 
precluded amusement, even though, as Dick rea- 
soned a moment later, Halden had no power to 


TWO SCEAPS OF PAPEE 261 

harm him. Sandy turned and rejoined his waiting 
but discreet companion and went his way without 
further notice of his assailant. Dick, already 
ashamed of his fit of temper, went on upstairs. 
Fortunately, perhaps, none had seen the swift in- 
cident, and he was very glad of it. He didn’t say 
anything about it to Stanley although that youth 
was doubled up on the window-seat reading. 

Dick had heard a good many gibes, generally 
good-natured, about his ‘^heroism” and athletic 
fame, for the story of the happening at the movie 
house Saturday night had swiftly gone the rounds 
of the school, and had shown no resentment until 
Sandy Halden’s taunt. He had meant to keep his 
temper under any provocation, for the best way 
to banish ridicule is to laugh at it, but Sandy 
had somehow managed to touch him on the raw. 
Perhaps had he been less tired and less sore he 
would have treated Sandy’s taunt with the same 
smiling insouciance with which he had accepted 
others. For some undefined reason the incident 
bothered him all the rest of the evening, even dur- 
ing the blackboard lecture in the Trophy Eoom 
when his thoughts ought to have been given en- 
tirely to Coach Driscoll’s expositions. Afterwards 
he viewed that uneasiness as a premonition. 

It was at eleven on Thursday that the blow fell. 


262 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

A hurry call led him from a Latin recitation to 
Coach Driscoll in the gymnasium office. The 
coach looked unusually solemn, Dick thought, as 
he pushed open the door and entered. Mr. Tasser, 
the physical director, was there as well, but he 
went out immediately, leaving his room to the 
coach and Dick. 

‘‘Sit down. Bates,’’ began Mr. Driscoll. “I’ve 
got rather an unpleasant matter to discuss, my 
boy.” He took a long white envelope from a 
pocket and from it produced two pieces of paper 
which he handed to Dick. “Ever see those before. 
Bates?” he asked. 

Dick accepted them wonderingly. One was a 
fragment of letter paper, much creased, the other 
the lower right hand comer of an envelope, 
roughly matching the scrap of letter paper in 
shape, suggesting that the latter had been in the 
envelope when tom and that both had subse- 
quently been cmmpled up together. The frag- 
ment of envelope bore the words: 

ood Academy, 

Kenwood, 

Mass. 

The envelope had been torn in such manner that 
the name of the addressee was lacking. Dick 


TWO SCRAPS OF PAPER 263 

studied the two fragments in puzzlement. Then 
he handed them back. 

' ' I Ve seen this before, sir, ’ ’ he answered. ‘ ‘ IFs 
'the corner of a letter I wrote and didn’t send. 
This piece of envelope doesn’t belong with it. The 
writing is not mine and I never saw it before.” 

Mr. Driscoll shot a sharp glance at the boy 
which Dick met unflinchingly. ‘‘You’re quite cer- 
tain of that. Bates?” he asked. 

“Quite, sir.” 

Mr. Driscoll looked thoughtfully at the frag- 
ments in his hand. ‘ ‘ These have every appearance 
of belonging together,” he objected. “You say, 
however, that this is not your writing on the en- 
velope.” 

“No, sir, it isn’t,” answered Dick positively. 
“You can see the di£^erence yourself.” 

“Perhaps, but frequently one unconsciously 
alters the appearance of his writing when address- 
ing a letter. One uses rather more care in an 
effort toward legibility. Bates. At least, the two 
writings are much alike, aren’t they?” 

“Yes, sir, in a general way. But I never make 
a capital K like that. I don’t think I could. And 
the A isn’t much like mine either.” 

“I see. Now in this letter. Bates, there seems 
to have been a good deal about football. At the 


264 QUARTEE-BACK BATES 

bottom here I read: ^call this the Two-Over and 
use it only when other fellow is playing his backs 
well out/ That refers, I presume, to the tackle- 
and-half-over play that weVe been using in prac- 
tice lately/’ 

‘‘Yes, sir/’ 

“Who were you writing to Bates!” 

“Sumner White, sir. He’s captain of our high 
school team at home.” 

“And home is somewhere in Pennsylvania!” 

“Leonardville. You see ” 

“One moment, please. Bates. Have you been in 
the habit of writing to this fellow White about our 
plays!” 

“No, sir, not exactly. He asked me when I came 
away to tell him about anything new that he could 
use. There wasn’t much, though. I explained our 
defence for the ‘big shift’ and told him about a 
lateral pass and about this ‘two-over.’ I guess 
that’s all, sir. I suppose I shouldn’t have done it, 
but it never occurred to me that there was any 
harm in it. You see, Mr. Driscoll, the coach at 
home isn’t much. He doesn’t know about new 
stuff, and he just pegs away at the things folks 
used five years ago. And the teams we play— I 
mean that the High School plays — are pretty up- 
to-date. So I tried to help the fellow^s by telling 


265 


TWO SCEAPS OF PAPEE 

them about anything I learned here that might be 
useful. I — I guess I oughtn’t to have, though.” 

^^No, you ought not to have done that, Bates,” 
agreed the coach gravely. ‘‘You see, you never 
can tell where a secret is going to land. It would 
seem safe to say that Kenwood would pay no 
attention to anything going on in a place like 
Leonardville, away off in Pennsylvania; would 
never hear of it. But suppose, for instance, some 
fellow in your town had a friend at Kenwood and 
wrote him that the local high school had a pretty 
nifty play and sent him a diagram of it.” 

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t any fellow in Leon- 
ardville, though, like that, Mr. Driscoll.” 

“I’m not saying there is. I’m only giving you 
an example of the way secrets get around. There 
are other ways in which that ‘two-over’ play might 
reach Kenwood. A newspaper writer might ex- 
plain it in an account of a game, for instance. It 
isn’t safe to even write about such things in your 
letters home, Bates. I didn’t caution you or any 
of the players, for I supposed you’d realise that 
what goes on in practice is a secret and not to be 
spoken of off the field. When was this letter 
written ? ’ ’ 

Dick thought hard a ^moment. “About two 
weeks ago, sir.” 


266 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

^ ^ And it wasn sent. Wliy f ’ 

hadn’t finished when it came time to go to a 
recitation and I slipped it in a book and couldn’t 
find it later. So I wrote another. And then, a 
couple of days afterward, I came across this one 
in the book and tore it up and threw it away.” 

‘‘Where did you throw it?” 

“I don’t remember, sir. I think, though, I 
dropped it in one of the paper barrels on the 
Front; maybe the one at this side of Parkinson.” 

“Anyone see you do it?” 

“I suppose so. I guess there were fellows 
around.” 

‘ ‘ Hm. Who do you know at Kenwood, Bates ? ’ * 

“No one, sir.” 

“Positive? I understand that you have corre- 
sponded with someone there quite regularly since 
you came here.” 

“That ’s not so, Mr. Driscoll. I ’ve never written 
a letter to Kenwood Academy in my life and I 
don’t know anyone who goes there. I suppose 
what happened is that the piece of my letter and 
the piece of envelope happened to be found to- 
gether. Who found them, sir?” 

Mr. Driscoll shook his head. “I agreed not to 
bring him into it. Bates. There’s no reason why 
I should. He has, I guess, no wish to appear in 


TWO SCKAPS OF PAPER 267 

the role of a spy. He found this evidence and 
handed it over to me as it was his duty to. I 

wish ’’ He fell silent, frowning at the two 

scraps of paper. Then : ''Are you a rapid writer, 
Bates P’ he asked. 

"Not very, I guess.’’ 

The coach took a pad of paper from the desk 
beside him and a fountain pen from his pocket. 
"Suppose you write what I tell you to on that,” 
he said. Dick laid the pad on his knee and waited. 
"Ready! Write 'Massachusetts Academy Ken- 
y^ood,’ please.” 

Dick wrote and the coach accepted the result 
and viewed it intently. Then he shook his head. 
"Your K and your A aren’t like the others. Bates, 
but there’s a certain similarity. Honestly, I don’t 
know what to think. I want to believe you, my 
boy, but this — this evidence is rather convincing. 
Look here, can you prove to my satisfaction that 
this letter was intended for this friend in 
Loganville and not meant for someone at Ken- 
wood!” 

"Leonardville, sir. I don’t know. I can get 
Sunmer to write to you and say that I sent him a 
letter containing what you read there, although 
worded differently, probably, and some other let- 
ters like I’ve told you. Would that do!” 


268 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 

would certainly help. Hang it, Bates, you 
must see yourself that the thing looks bad!’^ 

^‘Yes, sir, I guess it does,’’ agreed Hick dis- 
spiritedly. ‘‘All I can say is that it was done 
thoughtlessly and^ that I’ve never had any cor- 
respondence with Kenwood. Why should I want 
to give away our plays to Kenwood, Mr. Dris- 
coll?” 

‘ ‘ I don ’t know, Bates. You ’ve worked hard and 
made good and I don’t believe you’re the sort of 
fellow that would do a dishonourable act. You 
have been careless and thoughtless, but I’d like 
mightily to believe that your account of it is right. 
If you’ll wire to this fellow White ” 

“Why, he’s coming here Saturday, sir! I just 
remembered! Would it do if we waited and— and 
talked to him?” 

“Coming here? Of course it would! That’s 
fine ! But how does it happen that he’s coming to 
Warne?” 

Dick somewhat shamefacedly explained and the 
coach smiled at his embarrassment. “Well, it 
seems that you’re more of a hero than I suspected. 
Bates,” he said quite in his usual manner. “I 
had heard something about it, too, of late.” He 
added that with a twinkle, and Dick smiled rue- 
fully. 


TWO SCEAPS OF PAPER 


269 


‘^That was a beastly joke of Wallace Blasbing- 
ton’s sir. He — be beard somebow about — about 
this and thought he’d have some fun with me.” 

see. Well, now, Bates, let’s see where we 
stand. You produce this White chap Saturday 
before the game and if he can put a quietus on 
this story I’ll be satisfied. No one has heard any- 
thing about this matter except — the fellow who 
found these pieces of paper and I. And no one 
will hear. I guess I’m pretty well convinced al- 
ready, my boy! Now don’t let this bother you. It 
will come out all right, I’m sure. And if it does — 
as it’s going to — we’re going to need your best 
work the day after tomorrow. Come and see me 

Saturday, Bates, and By the way, what time 

do you expect this Mr. White?” 

‘ H think he will be in on that train that gets here 
at twelve-ten, sir.” 

‘^Hm, rather late! But that can’t be helped. 
You switch him over here to me as soon as he ar- 
rives and we’ll nail this thing right away. That’s 
all. Bates. Sorry this had to come up, but as it 
has I’m glad we’re going to clear it up so nicely.” 
Mr. Driscoll oflPered his hand and Dick shook it 
and went out. 


CHAPTER XXn 

BIASH CONFESSES 

‘^Of all the crazy things to do!^’ marvelled Stan- 
ley when, at noon, Dick found him in the room and 
poured out the story to him. ‘‘Didn’t you know 
you weren’t supposed to give your plays away like 
that?” 

“I guess I didn’t think,” said Dick humbly. 
“Besides, Leonardville is so far away ” 

“Well, no use talking about it now. Who do 
you suppose found the letter?” 

“I don’t know. Most anyone might have. I 
dare say I tossed the whole thing at the barrel 
and this piece that Mr. Driscoll has fell out- 
side.” 

“Yes, that’s probably what happened. But 
where did the bit of envelope come from? I don’t 
believe that was any accident, Dick!” 

“What do you mean?” demanded Dick warmly. 
“Do you think I lied ” 

‘ ‘ Hold your horses ! What I mean is that — well, 
I don’t know just what I do mean, Dickie. But if 
anyone had found that piece of your letter and 

270 


BLASH CONFESSES 271 

wanted to get you in wrong all he^d have had to 
do was 

thought of that, Stan, but there isn’t any- 
one who ” 

Dick stopped and frowned thoughtfully at his 
chum. 

^^Sure~of that?” asked Stanley. 

^^You mean ” 

‘‘Yes, how about Sandy? He has it in for you, 
hasn’t he?” 

“Why, yes, I suppose he has. In fact, he’s got a 
good big mad on with me, Stan. I didn’t tell you, 
but I had a bit of an argument with him yesterday 
afternoon, down in front of the door. Do you 
think ” 

“What sort of an argument?” asked Stanley 
suspiciously. 

So Dick told and Stanley snapped his fingers in 
triumph. “Why, it’s as plain as the nose on your 
face, Dick!” he exclaimed. “Either Sandy came 
across that piece of paper by accident or he saw 
you tear the letter up and puUed it out after you ’d 
gone on. Then, yesterday, he fixed up that en- 
velope to look as if it belonged with the letter! 
You didn’t ask Mr. Driscoll when he got them, 
did you? Well, I’ll wager it was last night after 
you’d thrown Sandy down or early this morning. 


272 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

It’s a mean thing to say, Dickie, but the thing’s 
just tho sort of low-down plot that Sandy would 
take to. Shows ingenuity, too, and Sandy’s no fool 
if he is a villain! Why don’t you put it up to 
Driscoll straight? Tell him you know who sup- 
plied the incriminating evidence and tell him the 
whole yarn. ’ ’ 

‘‘But I can’t prove anything, Stan.” 

“What of it? You can show that Sandy has a 
grouch and Driscoll’s got sense enough to see that 
the whole thing’s a frame-up.” 

“I might go to Sandy and make him tell the 
truth,” said Dick. 

“How? He’d deny it, of course. Well, after all, 
it’s no great matter. Driscoll doesn’t believe it 
and when your Leonardville chum gets here he can 
clear the whole thing up. Best thing to do is for- 
get it. It’s rather a sell on Sandy, though, for I 
guess he expected Driscoll would fire you off the 
team ! ’ ’ 

“Somehow, I sort of think that’s what he meant 
to do when I first went in there.” 

“You can bet he didn’t want to, Dick! He’d 
have done it, though, in a minute, if he hadn’t 
believed your story! Say, if I was you I’d take a 
Crack at Sandy, just for luck, the first time I met 
him!” 


BLASH CONFESSES 


273 


But Dick didn^t do that. For one reason, he 
didn’t see Sandy that day or the next. He might 
have found him, but Dick concluded that his hold 
on the position of substitute quarter-back was un- 
certain enough at present without taking any 
chances ! And so long as Sumner was coming to 
clear up the mystery he could afford to keep the 
peace. 

That Thursday evening Dick and Stanley went 
over to Goss to call on Blash and Sid. It was rain- 
ing great guns and an easterly gale was howling 
around the corner as they set forth and, in viola- 
tion of a school ordinance, cut across over the 
turf and under the drippiag branches of the bare 
lindens. Both Blash and Sid were home and hailed 
the arrival of visitors with loud acclaim. Blash 
pulled the “larder,” as he called it, from under 
the window-seat and produced sweet crackers and 
the remains of a pineapple cheese and Sid disap- 
peared down the corridor and presently returned 
with three bottles of some sweetly sickish con- 
coction called Easpberry Squash. It was a quar- 
ter of an hour later, after the last bit of cheese had 
disappeared that Dick, idly prospecting among a 
pile of magazines and papers — ^many of them 
moving picture monthlies — happened on some- 
thing that brought an exclamation of surprise to 


274 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

his lips. The others, busy in talk, neither heard 
nor noted and Dick drew from concealment a copy 
of the Leonardville Sentinel, opened with the 
third page uppermost. ‘‘Leonardville is Proud of 
Him,’’ read Dick. He didn’t go on, for he remem- 
bered the rest of it perfectly. Instead, he laid the 
paper down and thoughtfully stared across at 
Blash, who was too enthralled in the conversation 
to heed. Dick kept silence for a good five min- 
utes. Then, to the astonishment of the others, he 
broke in rudely and abruptly. 

“How did you know about my Brother Stuart, 
Blash?” he demanded. 

“Eh? What’s that?” Blash looked across 
startledly, striving to accommodate his mind to 
the sudden change of subject. 

“And where we lived?” pursued Dick. 

“Oh! Well, what was it you asked?” Blash 
floundered badly, his gaze falling on the paper 
under Dick’s hand and a slow grin curving the 
corners of his mouth. 

“I asked how you knew my brother’s name and 
where he lived,” explained Dick calmly; “and 
where we lived.” 

Blash looked at Dick for an instant and then 
shrugged. ‘ ‘ I didn ’t, Dick, ’ ’ he answered. ‘ ‘ That 
part was supplied by the editor man, I suppose. 


BLASE CONFESSES 


275 


All I did was to write a nice li.ttle press notice and 
mail it to tlie paper. I didn’t know whether they’d 
use it, but they did, and they sent me a copy of 
it. Honest, now, don’t you think journalism is 
my line? Dana or Bennett or any of those top- 
notchers got anythiug on me, Dick?” 

Stanley was staring wide-eyed. ‘‘D-do you 
mean that you wrote that thing about Dick in the 
Leonardville paper?” he gasped. 

‘‘Most of it,” replied Blash modestly. “Of 
course, as I’m telling you, I couldn’t supply the 
— the intimate details.” 

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” 

“Same here,” laughed Sid. “Blash, you’re as 
crazy a loon as they make!” 

“Seems to me,” said Dick, “you’ve spent most 
of your time of late working practical jokes on 
me. After this I’ll never believe a thing until 
I’ve made sure you’re not at the bottom of it. 
Well, I wonder if you know that that tommyrot 
of yours here about my high school friends com- 
ing to see Saturday’s game started something.” 

“Started something?” Blash asked eagerly. 
“No. What?” 

“Five of the fellows read that drivel and de- 
cided to follow the suggestion. Blash, I hope you 
choke!” 


276 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

Blash had gone off into a gale of laughter. 
Stanley and Sid grinned doubtfully, wanting to 
laugh, too, but fearful of wounding Dick’s feel- 
ings. 

‘‘0 boy!” gasped Blash. ^‘Dick, I guess we’re 
more than even! I’ve paid in full, eh?” 

Dick smiled at last. ‘‘No, you still owe me 
some pennies.” 

“Not a cent! You telephoned me that night at 
the movie house that I needn’t pay the last seven 
and a half cents: or, at least, ‘Uncle John’ did!” 

“That’s so,” acknowledged Dick, laughing. 
^‘I’d forgotten.” 

“When you get back,” said Stanley, “you can 
read what I wrote on the piece of paper one night. 
Remember?” 

Dick nodded. “Better tell me now, though. I 
never could stand suspense.” 

“I wrote ‘Blash will chisel a penny in two and 
send half as the last payment.’ Was I right, 
Blash?” 

“Right as rain! Fact is, the two halves are in 
that top drawer over there this minute. But 
you’ll never get either of them, Dick. I’ve paid 
my debts!” 

“You have,” agreed Dick heartily. “You’ve 
more than paid them, and I hope I’ll live long 
enough to hand you back the change!” 


CHAPTER XXni 


KENWOOD SCOEES 

Friday was a hard day to live through. Excite- 
ment was in the very air and football tunes as- 
sailed one at every turn. For the players the day 
was a nervous period of suspense. Dick was 
heartily glad when recitations took his thoughts 
off the morrow. There was some punting and a 
light signal drill on the field in the afternoon, but 
it was all over by half-past four. A final black- 
board talk was held in the evening and after it 
most of the players went over to the final mass- 
meeting and sat on the stage and were wildly 
cheered. Everyone who could think of anything 
to say that evening said it: Mr. Morgan, Chair- 
man of the Athletic Committee, Coach Driscoll, 
Captain Peters, Billy Goode, Manager Whipple 
and one or two lesser luminaries. And the musi- 
cal clubs played and the Glee Club sang and every- 
one joined in, and enthusiasm held sway until 
late. 

Saturday morning dawned brisk and fair, with a 
light westerly wind sweeping along the Front. 

277 


278 QXTARTER-BACK BATES 

Kenwood began to appear on the scene as early as 
balf-past ten, and from that time on blue banners 
were almost as numerous as brown-and-white 
ones. The Kenwood team came at shortly after 
twelve and went at once to Alumni Hall for an 
early luncheon, heartily cheered on their way by 
friend and foe. On the train that brought the 
thirty husky warriors came also five persons 
whose affiliations were evidently with Parkinson, 
for each of the five wore a brown necktie, differing 
somewhat in shade, and two wore brown-and- 
white arm-bands. In the confusion existing in 
and about the Warne station they were not dis- 
covered by the reception committee of one for sev- 
eral minutes. Then Dick gave a yell, charged 
through the throng, grabbed Sumner White and 
spun him around. 

‘‘Sum! You old scoundrel! .How are you?^^ 
Dick was surprised to discover how glad he was 
to see Sumner. 

‘ ‘ Fine ! Gee, Dick, you We grown an inch ! Say, 
you needn’t have come to meet us. I told 

your ” Sumner stopped, grinning. “See 

who’s here?” 

“Hello, Charlie! Hello, Jim! Say, I’m aw- 
fully glad ” Dick’s words stopped in his 

throat. Then: he gasped. 


KENWOOD SCORES 


279 


Mr. Bates laughed a trifle embarrassedly as he 
took Dick/s hand in both of his own. *‘Yes, it’s 
me, Dick. I — I thought I’d come along and keep 
these young fellows in order, you know. Well, 
how are you, son?” 

‘‘I’m great,” answered Dick, “but I’m so 
knocked in a heap — Think of you coming, dad! 
Gee, I’m glad to see you! How are you? Let’s 
get out of here where we can talk.” Dick took 
his father’s arm and piloted him out to the side- 
walk. Taxicabs were not to be thought of, for 
the demand already exceeded the supply six to 
one, and so they set off along the street afoot, 
Dick talking and asking questions and all the 
others chiming in every minute. It wasn’t until 
they were crossing the campus, Dick pointing out 
the sights, that he remembered the appointment 
with Mr. Driscoll. Then he hurried them all to 
the room in Sohmer and left them in charge of 
Stanley while he and Sumner went on to the gym- 
nasium. On the way Dick explained the situation 
to his companion, perhaps not very lucidly, and 
Sumner was still in a most confused condition of 
mind when he faced the coach. But it didn’t mat- 
ter, for Mr. Driscoll’s questions were few and 
somewhat perfunctory after Dick had had his say 
about Sandy Halden. “I think, sir,” Dick ended, 


280 QUAETER-BACK BATES 

“that Halden didn’t find that piece of an envelope 
at all. I think he addressed it himself, copying 
my writing the best he could.” 

“And I think you’re right,” agreed Mr. Dris- 
coll. “I’ll have something to say to Halden after 
this game’s out of the way. He’s a dangerous fel- 
low to have around.” 

Five minutes later they were back in Number 14, 
in the midst of a merry din of talk and laughter. 
Dick couldn’t remain with them long, however, for 
luncheon for the players was at a quarter to one, 
or as soon as the Kenwood party vacated the din- 
ing hall, and so, giving the tickets he had obtained 
for them to Sumner, he hurried away. “Stan will 
look after you,” he shouted back from the door. 
“There’s a stand-up lunch in Alumni for visitors 
at one-thirty, or you can get real food in the vil- 
lage. Stan wiU take you over to the field in 
plenty of time and I’ll see you here after the 
game. So long, dad! So long, fellows!” 

“Go to it, Dick!” cried Sumner. “Eat ’em up, 
old scout! We’ll be rooting for you!” 

A sketchy luncheon in the dining hall, with no 
one eating much, not even the veterans like Bob 
Peters and Harry Warden, a flight by way of the 
service entrance to the gymnasium and the usual 
confusion of changing to playing togs and listen- 


KENWOOD SCOEES 


281 


ing to final instructions at the same time. Then, 
at last, jnst before two o ’clock, a heartening, quiet 
talk of a minute by the coach. 

Kenwood was already at practice when Parkin- 
son reached the field. The home stand arose and 
gave the ‘4ong cheer” and the base drummer of 
the Warne Silver Cornet Band thumped vigor- 
ously. Counter cheers mingled from across the 
field and then the visitors cheered for Parkinson, 
and Captain Bob led his men forth and a ten- 
minute warming-up followed, with three squads 
trotting up and down and the punters stretching 
their long legs down by the east goal. It was 
four minutes past two when the teams took their 
places and the din of cheering and singing sub- 
sided. 

In seats half-way up the centre of the south 
stands Mr. Bates and Sumner White and the other 
three visitors from Leonardville watched intently. 
Sumner had just discovered that Dick was not in 
the Brown-and- White’s line-up and had pro- 
claimed the fact disappointedly. 

‘‘What’s that mean!” asked Mr. Bates anx- 
iously. “Isn’t he going to play, Sumner!” 

“Oh, yes, sir,” replied Sumner, assuming more 
confidence than he felt. “You see, a quarter- 
back doesn’t often last a whole game. It’s a 


282 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

pretty hard job. So they generally put in one 
to start the game and then run the other fellow 
on later. I guess Dick will get in before the half’s 
over, Mr. Bates. I think I see him down there 
on the bench. Yes, there he is, sir.” 

Mr. Bates had to have his son pointed out to 
him, and then a shrill whistle blew and Kenwood, 
having lost the toss, kicked the ball high and far 
into the sunlight. 

For the first ten minutes of that game Parkin- 
son and Kenwood tried each other out and neither 
team approached a score. Kenwood had what ad- 
vantage lay in a mild westerly breeze and she 
punted often. But if she expected fumbles or mis- 
judgments she was disappointed, for either Stone 
or Warden caught unfailingly and usually took 
the ball back over one or two white lines before 
being stopped. Just at first Mr. Bates, whose 
football education had been sadly neglected, 
thought the game much too rough and predicted 
broken legs and worse, but before that first quar- 
ter was at an end he was innured to the ungentle 
behaviour of the contestants and was following 
the varying fortunes of the game with grim lips 
and flashing eyes. 

Parkinson made one first down and Kenwood 
two in t];ie initial period, the second of the Blue’s 


KENWOOD SCORES 


283 


successes coming just at the end when a back 
shot unexpectedly around Peters’ end and made 
all of seven yards before he was pulled to earth 
and enthusiastically sat on by most of the Parkin- 
son team! Two attacks on Newhall and Wendell 
added the three more and the chain was trailed to 
a new position. But the Blue was still well away 
from the home team’s goal and shortly after the 
second quarter began she had to punt again. 

Neither team appeared to be able to gain con- 
sistently through the opposing line, while neither 
team had shown thus far much ability to run 
the ends. It looked like a punting duel all the 
way, with the viHory depending on a break” in 
the defence of one side or the other. It was a ding- 
dong affair for thirty minutes of playing time, 
and when the first half ended neither team could 
claim the advantage. 

^‘You wait till Dick gets in, though,” said Sum- 
ner to Mr. Bates when the field had emptied and 
the Silver Cornet Band was blaring forth again. 
‘^That quarter they’ve had playing may be good, 
but I’ll bet Dick can play all around him. He’s 
awfully slow, for one thing ” 

‘‘Dick is?” inquired Mr. Bates, anxious to 
learn football lore. 

“No, that fellow Stone. Dick’s a streak when 


284 QUAKTER-BACK BATES 

he gets started. Why, he can do the hundred in 
ten and two-fifths, sir!’^ 

‘‘Yon don’t say!” murmured Mr. Bates. He 
wondered what the hundred was and how Hick 
“did” it, hut he had no intention of exhibiting his 
ignorance any further. He was still recalling 
Sumner’s expression when he had innocently 
asked which team the little man in the grey flannel 
trousers — he happened to be the umpire — played 
on! 

Stone, however, was still in the line-up when the 
third period began and Dick was anxiously looking 
on from the bench, one of some fifteen other equally 
anxious substitutes. It was when the last half was 
but four minutes old that Kenwood sprung her 
big surprise. The surprise was a tow-headed 
youngster who had been substituted at right half. 
Someone near the Leonardville contingent said 
his name was Marvel, and Sumner declared heart- 
ily that he was well-named. The next day ’s papers 
called him Marble, which was probably correct 
but not nearly so descriptive. Marble was the 
nearest imitation of an eel that the Parkinson 
team had ever had to contend with. Kenwood 
played him close to the line, gave him the ball on 
a direct pass from centre and then set him loose. 
After he was loose he was about as easy to locate 


KENWOOD SCORES 


285 


as a flea, and, having been located, about as easy 
as a flea to capture ! His first stunt, and one that 
brought the visiting rooters to their feet with a 
sudden fierce and triumphant yell and sent Parkin- 
son hearts into Parkinson boots, was a dash 
through the brown-and-white line outside left 
tackle. He went through much as a hot knife 
cleaves its way through butter, and after he was 
through he feinted and squirmed and doubled and 
twisted until only Stone stood between him and 
the Parkinson goal. And Stone missed him! 

That forty-seven-yard run that ended in a touch- 
down squarely between the posts was just the 
medicine Parkinson needed, however, and with the 
score seven to naught against her, for Kenwood 
couldn’t have missed that goal with a blind and 
one-legged kicker, she set to work with a new 
determination and a new vim. Stone remained 
in just two plays after the kick-off. Then, not a 
little groggy, he limped off, loyally cheered, and 
Dick took his place. 

Dick carried but one instruction with him. 
‘‘Hustle your team, Bates,’’ Mr. Driscoll had said 
quietly. 

With the coach’s encouraging thump on his 
shoulder to remember and the knowledge that his 
father and Sumner and the others were wishing 


286 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

him luck, Dick raced on with every nerve tingling 
and a big, hot desire in his heart to vindicate 
their faith in him. Bob Peters hailed him joyfully. 
Bob was as happy as a clam, despite an ensan- 
guined nose. ‘‘Ata boy, Dick!^^ he sang out as 
Dick came up. ‘ ‘ Look who ’s here, fellows ! What 
do you sayP^ 

The others said many things, somewhat breath- 
lessly but heartily, and Dick hurried back to his 
position the instant he had reported. ^^All right 
now, Parkinson!’’ he cried cheerfully. ‘‘Let’s see 
what we can do when we try I Every fellow on his 
toes and play fast ! You’ve been asleep, every one 
of you! Let’s have some action. Let’s show ’em 
the game!” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

The ball was still Kenwood’s on her forty-six 
and she had made five yards in two downs. An- 
other thrust added a yard more. Then came a 
forward-pass, and Peters spoiled it while brown- 
and- white banners waved. Dick came running in, 
piping his signals on the way. 

Then started one of those long and steady 
marches down the field that, while less thrilling, 
less spectacular than runs or passes, are far more 
gruelling. If Parkinson had played slowly before 
she played so no longer. Never on that field had 
plays been run off faster, never had backs started 
quicker or linemen lunged harder. The pace told 
on the enemy before the thirty-yard line was 
passed. Dick chose his plays wisely, uncannily, 
thrusting here and there unexpectedly, trying this 
end and that and always somehow managing to get 
his ten yards in four downs. Sometimes the dis- 
tance had to be measured and often the result was 
in doubt until the referee’s hand waved to the 
chain holders, but from the enemy’s forty-seven 
287 


288 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

to her eight the advance continued remorselessly. 
Kirkendall and Warden were the heroes of that 
invasion, although Gaines and Peters, the latter 
twice sweeping around from position for short 
gains, took part as well. But on the eight yards 
Kenwood dug her toes and refused to give another 
inch. On the second down Kirkendall was doubled 
up for no gain, after Warden had failed off right 
tackle, and the big full-back was sent to the eight- 
een yards for a try-at-goal. But there was an at- 
tempted double pass first, and if Gaines had taken 
the throw from Dick in better shape it might have 
come off. As it was, however, Gaines almost 
dropped the ball, recovered it and was downed be- 
fore he could toss across the line to the expectant 
Bob Peters. So, after all, that march tallied but 
three points for the Brown-and-White, and came 
near to not tallying at all, for Kenwood found 
a weak spot on the Parkinson right and plunged 
through desperately as Kirkendall booted. The 
pigskin cleared the upstretched hands by inches 
only, but cleared them and sailed safely over the 
bar. 

Parkinson cheered and demanded further 
scores, but the third quarter ended in an exchange 
of punts after the kick-off and when the final 
period began the score was 7-3, with Parkinson 


QUARTER-BiiC;^ BATES 289 

on the short end and, so many thought, likely to 
stay there. 

Coach Driscoll put in a new right guard and a 
new right tackle, Bartlett and Cairns, so bolster- 
ing what, all the season, had shown as the weakest 
part of the brown-and-white line. Scoville also 
went in, Furniss having played himself to a stand- 
still at left end. 

Kenwood started from her twenty-nine yards 
when the period began and unloosed Marble again 
for a fifteen-yard romp, and again got him loose 
for twelve more, taking the ball well into Parkin- 
son territory. Then two plunges failed and a for- 
ward-pass went wrong and the visitors punted to 
Dick on his twelve. A Kenwood end upset him 
before he had gained his speed. Parkinson started 
another march then, but it went less smoothly 
now and ended at her thirty-five, and Kirkendall 
punted. Kenwood returned on second down, los- 
ing several yards on the exchange. Again Parkin- 
son took up her weary advance, but the plunges 
at the enemy line netted shorter gains and it was a 
forward-pass, Dick to Peters that took the home 
team to the enemy’s twenty-two yards. Here an 
attempt by Gaines around his own left was nipped 
in the bud. A penalty for holding set the Brown- 
and-White still further back and again she 


290 


quaeter-B.ack bates 

punted. Kenwood once more accepted the chal- 
lenge and Warden caught near the boundary on 
his thirty-eight. 

Kenwood began to make substitutions in earnest 
and Coach Driscoll called Gaines out and sent 
Long in. Many of the Parkinson team were show- 
ing the effects of the game by now and Bob Peters, 
though still confident and cheerful, looked like a 
wreck. Dick tried to persuade him to go off, but 
Bob indignantly spurned the notion. Time was 
flying fast and something less than six minutes 
remained when Parkinson lined up near the edge 
of the field on her thirty-eight. Long got two 
through the Kenwood centre and lost it on a sec- 
ond attempt at the same place. Dick ran half 
across the field for a scant three yards and Kirken- 
dall romped around his own right for eight. Then 
another forward failed, for Scoville was far out 
of position for the catch, and Warden was knifed 
through the Kenwood left for two. With eight to 
go on third down, Kirkendall faked a kick and 
threw a short pass across the centre of the line 
which Peters just missed, and Kenwood took the 
ball. 

Four minutes only remained and Kenwood tried 
every known method of wasting time. In the end, 
though, she was forced to punt, for Marble was 


291 


QUARTER-BACK BATES 

stopped twice — the youngster had been used hard 
and was showing the result — and the pigskin was 
Parkinson’s on her forty-one. Kirkendall was 
pulled down for a loss and had to go out, and 
Trask, who took his place, made but a yard out- 
side right tackle. Long skirted the enemy left for 
seven, however, and then made it first down on 
a plucky slam straight at centre. But it was hope- 
less to expect to snatch a victory by such slow 
methods, for the hands of the timekeeper’s watch 
were ticking off the seconds fast. Dick tried a for- 
ward, Trask to Peters, hut Kenwood was not to 
be fooled and Bob never had a chance at the 
hurtling ball. The ‘‘two-over” netted four where 
the Kenwood line split to meet the shift. Dick 
tried the same play again on the opposite side and 
got three. Warden was hurt and gave way to 
Skinner. Trask punted to Kenwood’s seven and 
the fleet-footed and elusive Marble caught and 
brought the pigskin back to twenty-three, through 
the whole Parkinson team. Twice Kenwood dared 
to buck the brown-and-white line and then punted 
to safety. 

But what seemed safety was not. For Dick 
made the catch on his twenty-eight yards, and for 
once the interference was all he could have asked 
for. Skinner and Peters upset the Kenwood ends 


292 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

and a hastily formed cordon of Parkinson players 
blocked the others. Dick looked and whirled to 
the left, cutting diagonally across behind his in- 
terference. Then he had to side-step an eager 
Kenwood tackle, and after that to run his hardest 
to throw otf the Blue’s right half. But he did it, 
for he had found his stride now and that ability of 
which Sumner White had boasted to Dick’s father 
came to his aid. Straight along the side-line he 
flew, some five yards inside it, hard and fast, with 
the enemy speeding after him and the quarter-back 
coming down upon him. The fifty-yard-line went 
underfoot and the pursuit had not gained. But 
the enemy quarter was almost on him now. Dick 
eased his pace the littlest bit and veered further 
into the field. Whatever happened, he did not 
mean to be forced over the side-line. Not until he 
had passed the middle of the field did the thought 
that he might win the victory for Parkinson come 
to him. Until then he had thought only of getting 
free, of gaining what he might before he was 
thrown to the turf. Now, though, with only the 
quarter-back before him he caught a brief and 
wonderful glimpse of victory! If only he could 
get by the last of the enemy! 

Then it happened, almost before he was ready 
to meet it! The Kenwood player poised, waited, 



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293 


QUAETEK-BACK BATES 

sprang I Dick whirled on his heel, his right arm 
stretched before him, locked, and spun dizzily. 
Arms grasped his thighs, were torn loose, settled 
about his knees, held! Dick felt despair at his 
heart even as he strove to wrench free, to set 
his feet in new strides. And somehow, his hand 
thrusting at a head and his knees tugging at the 
bonds that held them together, he staggered free ! 
Staggered and fell to one knee and one hand, but 
found his feet beneath him again and the goal 
beckoning ! 

The pursuit had closed in now and foremost 
friend and enemy were but a few yards behind, 
but Dick’s speed was still to be counted on and, 
although his lungs hurt and his legs felt leaden, 
he gained at every stride and sped on and on over 
one white line after another. Behind him panting 
players surged despairingly or joyously and be- 
side him a thunderous surge of shouts and a wild 
din of cheers kept pace. Then the end was in 
sight. Here was the ten-yard-line beneath his feet, 
there the last trampled yellow-white mark and the 
padded posts of the goal! Only a few more 
strides, only a few more agonising gasps for 
breath ! 

Dick never knew when he actually crossed the 
line, never knew when, having crossed it, he circled 


294 QUARTER-BACK BATES 

the nearer post and dropped weakly to the earth to 
be pounced on as weakly by a Kenwood back. 
When he did know things clearly the world was a 
medley of triumphant shouting and the blaring of 
instruments and the thump-thumping of a bass 
drum. He was still fighting for breath when Trask 
kicked the goal that put the score at 10-7. And 
10-7 it stayed, for there was only time for an 
exchange of punts and a discouraged rush by Ken- 
wood when the whistle signalled the end of the 
game and the end of the season, the victory of 
Parkinson and the defeat of a worthy foe. 

An hour later Dick sat in state in Number 14 
Sohmer and received the congratulations of his 
friends. His father sat beside him^ very proud 
and erect, beaming on all ; on Blash and Rusty and 
Sid and Stanley and many more who stormed the 
hero’s retreat that November afternoon. And 
there let us leave him, with Blash ’s words in our 
ears: ‘‘Two dozen citizens,” declaimed Blash, “in 
monster indoor meeting pay tribute to famous 
athlete, Richard Corliss Bates!” 


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